Jingle All The Way
by The Fink
Summary: Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without some form of crisis, but when Frank Peterson turns up on December 16th, it might just be the worst Christmas present a father can give his family...[COMPLETE]
1. One

Disclaimer: Eric, Kimberly, Alice, Wes, Jen and Taylor don't belong to me, they're borrowed from BVE. Ben is borrowed (as ever) with grateful thanks from Ekat. The concept of The Firm and Airwolf is borrowed from Belsarius productions. I make no money from that which is borrowed.

Notes: This story is set in December 2003 (some six months after Mother's Boy and some ten years before Far Future begins). It's related to a number of Identiverse stories (most importantly, it's actually the back story to one of the Far Future plot strands!), but it essentially stands alone. It is also my contribution to this year's holiday season -- though it's hardly a typical holiday story...

Many thanks to Gamine and Vanessa for patiently picking out the nits. Also many thanks to Cmar for the chats, tips and occasional correction.

Happy holidays!

Please offer feedback, it tells me how I'm doing.

~*~

Jingle All The Way

"Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg..."

"Alice, for the last time, shut up."

Eric smiled a little as he quietly closed the door. Neither Kimberly nor Alice had heard him arrive -- which was good. It meant he had more of an opportunity to surprise them. This was to be their second Christmas together and Eric had plans -- most of which involved spoiling Alice and Kimberly as much as possible, and which started with this: an early departure from work and three straight weeks off.

"**Dad** sings it," Alice wheedled, drawing Eric out of his thoughts.

"He would," Kimberly retorted in a tone of voice that almost had Eric turning around and walking straight out again. Face down monsters, sure. Rescue people from collapsing buildings, no problem. Face Kimberly when she was pissed at him? Not if he valued his life!

"Besides," Kimberly was continuing, "you've been singing the same thing for over an hour. Cut it out, young lady, or you're going to be having an early night."

"Aw but!" Alice whined.

So much for the spoiling -- at least for today. With a sigh, Eric entered the living room. "No 'aw but'," he said, earning a surprised 'eep' from Alice and a mixed glare and smile from Kimberly. Not completely in the dog house, then. "If mom's asked you to stop, you stop."

Alice heaved a gusty sigh and exited the living room.

"You're home early," Kimberly observed. "What's the crisis?"

Oh. **That** was why he wasn't completely in the dog house. "No crisis."

"And yet you're here and not at SGHQ." Now Kimberly was looking confused. "Are you feeling sick?"

Was it **really** this rare he took time off? "No, I'm not sick. Honey, it's December sixteenth. Christmas Day is nine days away." Kimberly just gave him a 'yeah so' look. "I have time off."

Kimberly blinked. "You have time off?"

Eric sighed. Apparently it was this rare. He crossed to the couch where Kimberly was sitting and crouched beside her. "I've taken three weeks off."

"You've taken three weeks off?" she echoed. "As in vacation time?"

This was getting ridiculous. He wasn't **this** much of a work-a-holic, surely! "Yes, as in vacation time. I don't have my pager, my cellphone is switched off and the only reason Gina has permission to ring this number is on the extremely slight chance of an impending apocalypse."

Kimberly stared for a second, then her expression broke and she started to giggle.

Eric stared at his wife. "Kim?"

"Your face!"

"My face what?"

For several moments, all Kimberly could do was giggle incoherently, until Eric began to wonder if he needed to do something to stop her having hysterics. She finally managed to gasp, "You actually thought..." But then she was off again.

This time, Eric did step in. "Kim -- please...I'm sure that can't be good for the baby -- or you, for that matter."

Managing, with difficulty, to finally get her laughter under control, Kimberly gave him the fond/exasperated expression she had recently been reserving for occasions when she considered he'd said something particularly male and/or clueless about pregnancy. "Laughter," she said archly, "is the best medicine."

Unsure exactly how to respond to that, Eric decided ignoring the comment -- and pretending he hadn't made his own -- might be the best way to go. "So what was so funny?"

"Honey, it was the expression on your face. You looked so proud that you were taking time off...then so completely mortified when I started to tease you about it."

"Kim..." Eric slowly shook his head.

"Consider it payback," she continued, "for teaching Alice that appalling song about Batman." 

Eric opened his mouth to refute the charge when the doorbell rang. 

"Go, answer it -- be useful in your time off," Kimberly ordered.

"Yes ma'am," Eric mumbled, climbing back to his feet, but even as he headed for the door, he heard Alice reach it and open it.

A moment later he heard, "Hello there, Alice," and felt his heart sink to knee level. A glance at Kimberly told him she'd also recognised the speaker.

"Daddy!" Alice called. "Uncle Frank's here!"

Eric sighed and exited the living room. Sure enough, there was Frank Peterson being framed in the early afternoon sunlight by the doorframe. "Well, let him in, Alice," he prompted, hoping wildly that this might actually be a social call.

"Eric -- good to see you again," Frank began as he came in.

"Frank." _Play nice -- this might not be business._ "C'mon in."

"Thank you." Peterson smiled, but there was a wry tinge to the expression. 

Business, then. Eric grimaced and wondered which way Kimberly would shred Peterson.

"You know," Peterson continued, following Eric through into the living room, "you're a hard man to track down. Gina and Ben didn't seem to know where you were or when you'd be back."

Mentally, Eric added Peterson's name to the small list of acceptable reasons for Gina to call him at home when he was taking time off. A little warning might have been nice. On the other hand, the man was supposed to be family... "That would be because I'm on vacation." He glanced at his watch. "As of an hour ago."

"Oh dear."

"'Oh dear', what?" enquired Kimberly politely.

Eric winced. The last time he'd heard her be **that** polite to someone, he'd been the recipient and it had been shortly after the Biocon mess -- after she'd heard about his slightly abortive attempt to leave which she'd taken an understandably dim view of.

Peterson didn't appear to notice. "I need a favour," he said.

Heart somewhere around basement level now, Eric groaned quietly. "A favour?" he repeated. "Some how, I figure that's not going to involve peace on Earth and goodwill to all men."

"No -- it isn't," Peterson agreed, having the grace to look marginally sheepish.

"In that case," snapped Kimberly, giving up on politeness, "I'm sure you can find the door, because whatever it is, the answer is no."

Peterson looked startled. "Err?"

Eric shrugged. "She's right. It's Christmas. I've had more than my share of shit at this time of year, one way or another. It's a time for being with your family -- and I don't mean on some commando raid in some tin-pot dictatorship no-one's heard of."

Peterson stared, beyond startled and well into completely stunned. "Excuse me?"

"Frank, it's been nice seeing you, but the answer is no. If you really need someone, there are Guardians rostered on shift over the holidays. Speak to Ben. He..."

"It needs to be you."

"Why?" Eric asked.

"Well," Peterson admitted, "anyone -- within certain parameters -- who can pass as Asian."

"And you don't have anyone else stashed away somewhere who can do that?" said Kimberly sceptically.

"The answer is still no, Frank," Eric stated. "Get it through your head, I am **not** doing this."

Peterson sighed. "If that's the way it's got to be." Eric opened his mouth to say something when Peterson pulled out a cellphone. He pushed a button on it then said, "No go -- plan B."

"I think it's time you were leaving, Frank," said Kimberly icily.

At that moment, there was another knock on the door. Eric glanced in Peterson's direction, but the older man's expression was inscrutable. That was something Eric wasn't buying for a second. He had a nasty suspicion what the knock on the door was going to herald.

"Don't do this, Frank."

But it was too late. Alice had opened the front door. There was a slightly outraged yelp -- whoever it was had just barged passed the eight year old. That in itself was enough to bring Eric's blood to the boil, but the realisation of who it was at the door pushed the limits of his temper even further. Two, mean-looking Military Policemen.

"What the hell is going on?" Kimberly yelled, struggling to her feet. "Who the hell are you two and what do you want?"

"Mommy!" Alice sobbed, making a quick entry into the living room.

"Master Sergeant Myers," said one of the MPs, ignoring Kimberly completely.

"I didn't think even you could stoop this low, Frank," Eric snarled.

"Eric, what's going on?" Kimberly demanded.

"You're under arrest for being absent without leave," the MP continued.

"The son of a bitch has reactivated my commission," Eric snapped.

"Mommy?" Alice queried.

"He can't do that!" Kimberly exclaimed.

"I'm sorry, Kim," said Frank apologetically, "but I can -- and I have."

The two MPs grabbed Eric's arms and tried to drag him out of the room. "This is bogus and you two goons know it. Now le'go or I will start breaking things, starting with you," Eric snapped. The two MPs reacted as if Eric had said he had some sort of contagious disease. "As for you," Eric continued, rounding on Peterson, "I'm not gonna do what I'd most like to do right now -- because I know where that'll land me. But you listen, and you listen good, you sack of no-good shit. Pulling your shit with me is one thing; dragging my family into it -- that's a whole other ball game."

"I didn't want to..."

"No dice Frank. You didn't have to and you know it. Now get the fuck out of this house -- and take your two pet gorillas with you. If I've gotta do this -- and don't worry, I've caught that message loud and clear -- I would at least like to be able to say good bye to my wife and daughter in private."

The two MPs obviously objected to being termed gorillas -- something that probably boded no good for Eric's continued well being once he left the house, but he was beyond caring. Peterson, however, simply nodded and led both MPs out.

"Eric you don't have to do this!" said Kimberly softly. "You're not in the Marines any more...they don't...can't..."

Eric sighed, the anger bleeding into despair. "That's just it, Kim -- they can. I'm still young enough -- more than young enough -- for active duty and there's a clause somewhere about 'in times of need'. I knew that when I joined up...and I knew Frank was a big enough SOB to pull that card...I just never entirely believed he'd actually do it to me." He snorted. Of course Peterson would pull the card with him. It wasn't as if they'd ever exactly had a father/son relationship. Hell, it was Peterson's fault -- at least in some small measure -- that he wasn't a Marine any longer. Any man who could have a grudge like that against them -- and not tell their own son and former fiancée that, 'by the way there's this guy out there who's likely to want to make your lives living hell to get to me'...

"I don't want you to go, daddy," Alice whispered, drawing Eric out of his thoughts.

"I don't want to go either," Eric admitted. He crouched down in front of her, absently noting that she was soon going to be too tall for him to do this. "But, honey, sometimes, we have to do stuff we don't like."

Alice sighed. "I know." A new thought crossed her mind. "Will you be back for Christmas?"

"I'll try," Eric replied. 

"Promise?" Eric wished he could. "Please?"

The pleading expression on Alice's face tore at Eric's heart. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

There was a moment while Alice digested the words, then her eyes filled with tears. "I hate Uncle Frank!" she screamed. "I hate him!" 

Before Eric could say anything, she'd fled the room. A moment later and he heard her bedroom door slam.

"At least she knows whose fault this is," Kimberly offered softly.

"Yeah. Funny how that doesn't make me feel any less of a heel." Eric got back to his feet. "Guess I'm gonna have to settle for punching his lights out -- as soon as it's not gonna land me with ninety days in solitary."

"It isn't your fault," Kimberly insisted. "And right now, it's just as well you told Frank to get out -- or he might have already got some of what's comin' to him." She moved across the room to pull Eric into an embrace. "Don't worry about Alice -- or me. We'll be fine. Just you concentrate on getting through this in one piece. You've gotta come back from this, you hear?"

"In as few bits as I can manage," Eric answered, bending to kiss her. "That's a promise I can make." 

There was an impatient throat clearing from somewhere in the direction of the front door. Eric sighed -- that was one of the MPs. Period of grace over, then.

"You'd better go," Kimberly said quietly, as if picking up on his thoughts.

"Yeah." Eric sighed bitterly. "Guess I had."

~*~

It was a longish journey from the pleasant suburban house in Silverhills to Peterson's base of operations, and not a particularly interesting one. Eric watched the Californian landscape go by from the back seat of Peterson's limousine with a jaundiced air. MP number one was actually driving, with Peterson riding up front beside him, leaving Eric in the company of MP number two. _As if I'm going to escape from a vehicle moving at seventy that has no internal door handles._

Eric killed the journey time by variously imagining exactly how he was going to deal with Peterson when he was finally in a position to and wondering exactly what this mission was that it absolutely had to be him. The last time Peterson had been so specific about the person required, it had been about Taylor -- and then, there had been a clear case of skills that weren't widespread and the right sort of temperament and psychological makeup. As far as Eric was aware, the skills he possessed were hardly rare and the one thing in his life that was unusual, the Quantum Morpher, was in secure lockup at SGHQ and Peterson hadn't so much as breathed a word to suggest Eric would need that.

Out of the window, as the sun began to set, Eric saw a chain-link fence coming up on the right. That was probably their destination.

"Eric -- how's your Cantonese?" Peterson asked suddenly.

Eric blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Your Cantonese. You took three courses in it while you were in the Marine Corps. How is it?"

For one insane second, Eric wondered how Peterson knew that. Then he remembered who was asking -- and the information he had at his fingertips. "Rusty."

"Well start dredging it up," Peterson advised. "You're going on an intensive refresher course."

"Oh lucky me," Eric muttered. That his language skills were relevant narrowed down the sort of mission this was likely to be. _If it was going to be a 'go in and hit things' job, it wouldn't matter a shit whether I spoke Cantonese, Japanese or French._ He grimaced. _They don't have someone fluent in Cantonese who can do this?_

The limousine pulled onto an entry road and rolled to a halt at the guard post. Peterson produced a security pass and they were waved through.

"Welcome to Knightsbridge," said Peterson. 

"And you are welcome to it," Eric mumbled. The limousine was heading towards the main building on the site, which he could now see was a low-rise office block, making this look less like a military base and more like the corporate headquarters of a multinational corporation. He wasn't fooled. The carefully landscaped grounds undoubtedly hid assorted defence systems, from motion sensors to IR trip wires. This wasn't a place you broke into in a hurry. _If at all._

The limousine pulled to a stop in front of the main entrance. Peterson climbed out and opened one of the rear doors. "This way."

Silently, Eric followed Peterson into the building. He wasn't entirely surprised to note that the two MPs weren't following on behind.

"Mission briefing first," Peterson explained. "Then you'll know what we're up against." Eric said nothing. "After that, there's an evening meal and the start of your training."

"So I get to eat, but don't get to sleep. Just so's I know."

Peterson suddenly stopped. "Cut me some Goddamn slack, Eric. You seem to think I'm getting some sort of enjoyment out of pissing you off." Eric just glared. "If this wasn't a major issue, and if you weren't the only person who could do this job, you wouldn't be here."

"You want me to cut you slack. Well how about you tell me just what it is that makes me the only person who can do this -- whatever the fuck 'this' is?" Eric retorted. "You've turned up, unannounced, coerced me into this, had your two goons scare Alice and you've pissed off my wife. I'm not seeing any reason to give you slack right now."

"I'm sorry about that -- I really didn't want to involve Kim and Alice. But seeing as you weren't at SGHQ, I didn't exactly have a lot of choice."

"Bullshit," said Eric flatly.

"You've worked every other Christmas since you started working -- how the hell was I supposed to know you weren't planning to work this one?"

Eric rounded on Peterson. "You don't get it, do you? You don't get what's different this year." The expression on Peterson's face -- complete bemusement -- underlined the point. "I worked at Christmas because I didn't have an alternative. I took the holiday shifts because I didn't have family to go home to -- so that someone else, who did have a wife, or a husband, or a kid, or parents," at that, Peterson winced, "could go home and visit. Now, I do have an alternative. Or at least I should have."

"Oh."

"Oh, would cover it."

"Eric, I really am sorry. I didn't think..."

"Very true."

"This isn't my schedule."

"Not improving this any," Eric retorted.

"No wonder you never got put forward as a candidate for officer training," Peterson muttered, starting to move along the hallway once more. "John warned me you were a smart mouth."

Eric snorted. "I haven't even warmed up yet."

"In here," Peterson ordered shortly, gesturing towards one of the doorways that lined the hallway.

For all his irritation with Peterson, Eric did as he was bidden, knowing that the sooner the briefing got under way the sooner this whole mess would be done. The room proved to be a plush office. Thick pile carpet covered the floor, a cherry-red leather couch ran the length of one wood-panelled wall while an opulent desk took up much of the opposite wall with a huge bookcase taking care of the third wall. It reminded Eric strongly of Zafar bel Abis' compound -- though it lacked the ostentatiously displayed Koran -- though he didn't think that was deliberate. _More a matter of the same kind of ego,_ he decided, trying to suppress the shiver.

"Take a seat," Peterson directed, crossing to the desk. "We'll get this briefing under way." So saying, he pushed a button on the telephone keypad.

A moment later and the office door opened to admit a self-possessed young Asian woman carrying a sheaf of papers and folders.

"Eric, this is Hana Baker -- she will be your liaison for this mission; Hana, this is Eric Myers."

From the way Hana swept her eyes over him, Eric got the feeling that she had not only inspected him but found him wanting to judge from the slightly disdainful cant to her head. _Yeah, well, I'm not wildly keen on being here either._

Either Peterson was oblivious of Hana's silent assessment, or he opted to ignore it -- and Eric wasn't entirely sure which he wanted to put money on. "Hana, if you would?"

She gave a nod and handed Eric one of the folders. He opened it to see a photograph of another Asian.

"That," said Hana, "is Kim Soong. He's a Korean 'businessman'. His business is supplying the organised crime world with assorted narcotics."

Eric flipped the page and found another photograph of Soong, together with a white man and woman.

"They are Doctor Gaston and Doctor Mendez. Both former employees of The Firm," Hana explained. "They disappeared eighteen months ago, en route between this facility and a research facility in Arizona. They were couriering the first stages of development of a new drug."

Eric lifted his eyebrows. "Eighteen months and you've only just found them?"

"Not exactly," said Peterson. "What you're seeing is the results of a two year operation."

Eric flipped to the next page and found himself faced with a set of tabulated results from some form of chemical analysis.

"The performance data from The Firm's analysis of the drug Soong is preparing to sell to the assorted crime syndicates," Hana stated. "The drug, as The Firm designed it, was supposed to be a will suppressant for use in interrogations..."

"Torture, you mean," Eric interrupted.

Hana turned an icy glare on him. "For use in interrogations," she said firmly. "It was supposed to be a quick and one hundred percent painless method of getting information."

"Now why do I struggle to entirely believe that?" Eric mumbled, looking at the data.

"As you wish, Mr Myers, but that was the intention. Perhaps needless to state," Hana continued, "Kim Soong's intentions are rather less kindly disposed." Eric bit back a sarcastic comment at that. "The drug, as has been developed, has five strains. Beta one through five, and is currently undergoing trials. It is designed to be both truth serum and will inhibitor. It's also designed to work as an effective...cattle prod, shall we say, should someone opt to resist the questioning."

"Meaning what?" Eric asked.

"Direct commands cannot be resisted; questions can -- but resisting, by either not answering or providing false data, leave the subject in wracking agony."

Eric glanced up at Peterson. "Funny how they seem to have got there from a 'harmless' truth serum." Peterson said nothing. Eric hadn't expected a reply.

Hana cleared her throat. "If you'll turn to the final page in your booklet," she said pointedly.

Eric did as he was told, and swore. "You son of a bitch."

"I didn't do this, Eric -- you have to believe me."

"I don't have to believe you in the slightest -- which is just as well, seeing as right about now if you told me it was raining and you'd walked in soaking wet, I'd want an independent view," Eric snapped. "Now, perhaps one of you two might like to explain to me just why it is, **my** photograph is in this dossier?"

Hana had lost none of her self-possession at Eric's outburst. She now responded, "The resemblance is uncanny..."

"Ms Baker," Eric retorted, "it's not 'uncanny'; I can tell you when that photograph was goddamn taken. It was at my mother's funeral, in July of this year." Eric turned a baleful glare on Peterson. "You, talk, now. Fast."

"It's not what it looks like."

Eric deliberately set the dossier down and stood up. "Frank, so far today, you have gone a very long way towards enforcing the idea that I was better off not knowing you. Don't insult my intelligence. I want an explanation, or you might as well lock me up on AWOL charges because threats and coercion or no, I am not doing a single, solitary goddamn thing for you. Do I make myself clear?"

Peterson gulped.

"Mr Myers," said Hana icily. "Sit down."

For a moment, Eric debated with himself, then shrugged. "You have five minutes to give me this explanation, Frank, or I am walking out of that door."

"Yes. All right. It is you," Peterson admitted.

"Why?"

Surprisingly, that answer came from a slightly chastened Hana. "Soong was putting out feelers into the crime world, seeing who would be interested in purchasing the drug, when it was ready. There was a considerable interest from assorted Japanese Yakuza and Chinese Triads. I made tentative contact with Soong in early September, posing as a representative of an interested Chinese Triad boss, under the alias of Chen Ming. As much of this was done non face to face, via middlemen and assorted forms of electronic contact, I was able to pose as both representative and as boss, but to prevent Soong from becoming suspicious, the boss needed to have an identity set up. So one was built."

"Around my photograph," Eric finished, glaring at Peterson. "And you didn't think I was going to be just a tiny bit pissed off by this?"

"If Soong had kept to form, it wouldn't have been an issue," said Hana. "Unfortunately, something has him spooked, and he's suddenly demanded a face to face meeting."

"And I say again," said Eric, "you didn't think I was going to be just a little bit upset?"

"Eric, if I could have my time over again, I would do a lot of things very differently," Peterson retorted. "I should have told you..."

"No," Eric snapped, "you should have **asked** me if I minded. Just tell me that whatever the fuck criminal record you've faked up for this Triad boss doesn't have my finger prints attached to it."

"You're in luck on that count," said Hana. "Chen Wu burned his finger prints off with acid when he was seventeen."

"You won't be required to do that," said Peterson before Eric could open his mouth. "We have ways of simulating that."

"Just as well," Eric muttered. "And Chen Wu? Let me guess. Older brother?"

"Husband," Hana answered. "It was decided there wasn't enough familial resemblance for the sibling relationship to be believable."

Eric favoured Peterson with another dirty look. "Let me see if I have this straight," he said. "You want me to pose as a Chinese gangster in order to investigate a Korean drug baron to do...what?"

"Get data on the compound so that we can put a commando raid in there and shut it down for good," said Peterson. "Despite what you might think, we have absolutely no desire for this drug -- tmazacol is the name Soong's given it -- to hit the streets."

At that, Eric could actually see a reason for involving someone with some form of combat or commando experience. It would make the scouting easier, but he wasn't quite willing to let Peterson have that point.

"And seeing as you were asking me about it, I'm going to take a flying guess that Chen Wu is supposed to be Cantonese."

"He speaks no English," said Hana.

"Oh fucking brilliant," Eric muttered. "And how long do I have to achieve fluency?"

"Two days plus this evening," said Peterson.

Eric looked down at his hands then up at Peterson, measuring the distance. Was it worth the grief he'd probably get? Considering the grief he was already getting...

Peterson's head snapped back as Eric's fist connected with his jaw.

"Consider that the down payment," Eric stated.

* * *

_TO BE CONTINUED..._


	2. Two

Disclaimer: See part 1 -- nothing's changed!

Note: Speech within {} is in Cantonese. 

Muchly thanks to Gamine and Vanessa for patiently picking out the nits and to Kahva for the suggestions and encouragement.

~*~

Peterson and Hana had both left the office, Peterson presumably to get his jaw checked over. Eric was fairly sure he hadn't done any permanent damage, but he suspected it was a convenient excuse to get out of harm's way. Not that he was complaining. Right at this moment, the less he saw of Peterson the better. On the other hand, being stuck in an office with nothing to do was not exactly his idea of a good time either.

Particularly not when faced with the impossible task of having to learn a language and be fluent in it inside three days.

Just when Eric was considering going to look for Hana and Peterson, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. A moment later and the door opened. Hana entered, carrying a dinner tray.

Eric opened his mouth to say something, but she got in first with a piece of rapid fire Cantonese. Eric could only stare in dumb horror as he realised he recognised only one word of what she'd said -- and that, the word for dinner, he only recognised because she'd waved a hand in the direction of the tray.

Hana sighed. "This is going to get us killed," she muttered in English.

"I'm not exactly wild about that idea myself," Eric retorted.

"Then I suggest you make the effort, Mr Myers," Hana answered. Then she repeated what she'd said first of all, this time slower.

"You're either telling me I can't have dinner until I've worked out what you just said," at which Hana actually cracked a smile, "or else telling me this isn't dinner, just a snack."

"I'm tempted to say it's the former, Mr Myers," Hana replied. "But it is a snack. We're going to be working very late." She handed over the tray. "How much of that did you guess?"

"Most," Eric admitted. He looked at the tray and for the first time realised how hungry he actually was. He picked up a sandwich. "So where do we start?"

Hana smiled. In slow and careful Cantonese, she said, "{Why don't we start by you telling me about yourself?}"

~*~

The two days passed by swiftly for Eric. 

It was a dizzying, confusing experience that started from the second he woke up in the cramped bunk room he'd been told he could sleep in until the moment he was finally allowed to crawl back onto the solitary cot to snatch barely a couple of hours' sleep. In between times, Hana conducted briefings and lessons, chopping between Cantonese and English with such a rapidity that Eric began to lose the sense of which language he was using and when. So much so that when he was permitted a brief call home, towards the end of the second day, it was only when Kimberly said, slightly bemused, "I think you've got the wrong number," that he realised he'd either addressed her in Cantonese, or, worse, in a polyglot of English and Cantonese.

"Sorry Kim -- it's me," he said, this time fairly sure the words were English.

"Eric?!" Eric could imagine the expression on Kimberly's face. "What the hell?"

"It's a long story." Eric sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I might be able to explain some of it when I see you."

"Does that mean you'll be home soon?" Kimberly asked, sounding hopeful.

Eric winced. "I wish I knew."

"Oh." Kimberly sighed and Eric could practically hear the hope draining away. "Is there anything you can tell me?"

"Not really," he answered. "Wish I could." There was an awkward moment. "How're you guys doing?"

"We're doing OK -- Ben dropped by this morning; I think Taylor's out of town at the moment, too." Eric suspected he was liable to be seeing Taylor in the near future. "He gave me a hand with the tree. Wes and Jen are bringing Rick over in a little while -- which Alice is very excited about. I haven't got the heart to tell her that Rick's probably going to be asleep."

Eric chuckled, despite the sudden pang of homesickness and loneliness. "Let's just hope she's as fascinated by her new little brother or sister when they come along."

"She will be," said Kimberly. "In fact, she said to me this morning that she couldn't wait for the baby to be born, and could I please hurry up with it."

Eric laughed out right at that. "How is the baby?"

"Missing you, just like the rest of us," said Kimberly ruefully. "I swear, he's going to take after his dad if the way he's been kicking the last two days is anything to go by."

Eric felt the strange flash of mixed pride and awe he always got when Kimberly talked about the baby. Even having had nearly seven full months to get used to the idea, he still hadn't really managed to wrap his mind around the idea that he was going to be a father -- it still amazed him.

"How're you doing?" Kimberly continued. "Have you killed you-know-who yet?"

Eric smiled faintly. "Punched him once so far, and counting."

"Only once? I'm impressed."

"Haven't really seen him since Tuesday," Eric admitted. "Otherwise..."

It was Kimberly's turn to laugh; though Eric could hear a hard edge to it. "Well, just make sure you give him my regards too."

"I will." 

Hana appeared at that moment. "{Time to go,}" she said.

"{All right -- one second,}" Eric responded.

"Eric?" Kimberly queried. "What is that?"

"Cantonese. Don't ask," he replied. "It means I have to go."

"Take care of yourself, Eric."

"I will do Kim. I'll be home as soon as I can and in once piece. I promise."

"I'll hold you to that." 

Kimberly's voice sounded as if she was suspiciously close to tears as she hung up, something that reaffirmed Eric's own anger at the current situation. This was all wrong.

"{How can you promise to be home safely?}" Hana wanted to know.

Eric just looked at her. "{Because my wife worries about me more than enough as it is.}" He looked down at his hands. "Besides," he added dropping back into English, "I have to believe it, otherwise, as you said, it's going to get us killed."

Hana's eyebrows lifted. "You're probably right, Mr Myers. {This way -- we need to be going.}" She opened the office door. "{And from this point on, you speak no English.}"

"{I understand.}" Eric nodded, but inwardly he couldn't help but feel some qualms as he followed Hana out of the office.

For all his conviction to Kimberly that he'd be home in one piece, Eric was nervous. Two days was not long to learn anything -- least of all how to be fluent in a language he hadn't even thought about in five years -- and now he had to try to fool a skittish drugs baron into believing he was a native speaker. As if that wasn't enough, there was also the knowledge that if he fouled up, there were other lives at stake. _So no pressure, then..._ He grimaced.

"{Through here,}" Hana directed, and Eric found himself in a small room that reminded him somewhat of Michael Zaskin's office at SGHQ, even down to the slightly nerdy, puppy-keen scientist -- though this scientist was tall, blonde and buff where Zaskin was strictly average height and build, and dark haired.

"Ah -- Mr..." The scientist looked down at his notes. "Mr Chen?"

Eric glanced at Hana -- was he supposed to put the guy right or nod?

"He's going to be," Hana agreed.

"Ah -- good, good. This way...does he speak English?"

"No," said Hana. "Though he understands it."

Eric gave Hana a dirty look. "{Bitch.}"

Hana smiled, sweetly. "{It's good practice.}"

"He doesn't look very friendly," commented the scientist.

"{Nor would you after the last two days,}" Eric muttered.

Hana choked. The scientist's eyebrows lifted. "What'd he say?"

"He said that he's had a long and trying week," Hana answered. "Please forgive him for not looking his best."

"Fine, fine. This way, please." Eric found himself being led into the lab that opened off the office space. "Take a seat." Eric did as he was bidden. "Now, I need for you to remove your wedding band -- we have to simulate the fact that your alter ego burned his finger prints off with acid, and we don't want to get your wedding band gummed up."

Silently, Eric slid the ring off. Hana held her hand out for it. "For safe keeping."

"{It stays with me,}" Eric retorted, slipping it into his jeans pocket.

"{It's not a good idea,}" said Hana, dropping into Cantonese. "{It can't come with you on this mission -- for the next however long it takes, you aren't married to Kimberly. That life doesn't exist.}"

"{Bitch,}" Eric repeated, this time with more feeling behind it.

"{Possibly -- but it's my job to try and make sure we both come out of this alive,}" Hana responded. "{You promised Kimberly that you'd come back in one piece. Hanging on to that ring is putting that in jeopardy.}"

"Can you have this argument later?" suggested the scientist. "Your transportation ETA is only an hour away, what I need to do takes fifteen minutes and I know you need to visit the wardrobe department here too."

Hana sighed. "For now."

Eric wasn't entirely sure who she was aiming the comment at, although he could see that the scientist had a point. He settled for a venomous glare in Hana's direction.

"Thank you," said the scientist. "Now," he said, turning to Eric, "if you can lay your hands palm up on this bench," he tapped the workbench Eric was sitting beside, "I can get to work."

Eric did as he was told and then watched with mixed fascination and a little dread as the scientist painted something onto his fingers that looked like liquid skin and felt a horrible mix of icy-cold and itchy.

"It's a special, quick drying latex foam," the scientist explained, "mixed with an adhesive. Once it dries, you won't be able to tell it's not your real skin, never mind anyone else," that Eric privately doubted, "and it will only come off with a special solvent, so you don't need to worry about it peeling off during your meetings or what have you." The scientist finished painting and then settled back. "That'll take fifteen minutes to dry off and set."

With nothing better to do, Eric watched and tried not to think about how much the substance was itching. Before his slightly incredulous gaze, the skin on his fingers turned from being roughened and hard working to something misshapen and unnaturally smooth. And, sure enough, as it finished drying, it did begin to feel natural -- and mercifully, the itching tailed off, too. At the end of the fifteen minutes, he tentatively touched the work bench and found that it really didn't feel any different -- it was almost as if there wasn't the layer of rubber coating his fingers.

"It's good stuff," said the scientist proudly.

"It certainly is," Hana agreed. To Eric, she added, "This way. We've got to get our things before our transportation arrives. {And we're going to deal with your wedding band,}" she added.

Eric gave her another look as they left the lab. "{If I can't keep it with me, you give it to the chopper pilot -- or I will.}" Hana blinked. "{If it's who I think it is, she knows me and she knows my wife. If anything happens to me, she'll be able to give it to Kim.}"

Hana grunted. "{That makes sense,}" she allowed. "{In here,}" she added, directing Eric into yet another room in the Knightsbridge centre.

This one was one that would have put the costume department of the latest Hollywood blockbuster to shame. Eric could only stare in mixed amazement and horror.

"Mr Chen?" Another assistant popped up at their entrance and Eric submitted to the same rigmarole as with the scientist -- of speaking no English but understanding it.

He found himself being led through the racks of clothing by the assistant -- a perky blonde who would have given Barbie at her most nerve-grating a serious run for her money -- who seemingly handed him items of clothing at random.

"The changing rooms are through there," she finally indicated.

Eric went through and started to get changed. It was only when he went to pull on the pants of the suit she'd handed him that he realised this wasn't just off the rack stuff, this was all high class designer label. _Spying really **does** pay well, huh?_ he found himself thing before he could clamp down on the frivolous thought.

The clothing all fit well -- almost as if it had been made to measure. Given what Peterson seemed to know about him, maybe it had been. A sharply cut black suit, black silk tie, white shirt, black Italian leather shoes -- for a second, Eric didn't recognise himself in the mirror. He really did look the part.

"{Finished?}" Hana was back. 

"{Yes.}" Eric picked up the disputed wedding band and slipped it into the pants pocket then exited the changing cubicle. 

Hana was standing there in a black dress that appeared to have been painted on to judge from the way it clung to her. Her hair was neatly pinned up in a very stylish twist with what looked like a pair of midnight-black chopsticks, while at her throat was a set of glittering stones that looked suspiciously like diamonds. At her feet was a bag -- Eric presumed it contained some changes of clothing for them both.

"{Leave your other clothes there. Naomi will take care of them,}" Hana directed. "{And you look almost authentic.}"

"{Almost?}"

For a response, Hana snapped her fingers. Naomi -- if that was the assistant's name -- reappeared with a pot of hair gel. Before Eric could truly process that, he found himself backed into a seat and 'styled'. Hana seemed to be amused by the process, as she handed him a pair of designer sunglasses.

"{One other thing,}" she said. "{You need to be carrying a weapon or two.}"

Another snap of Hana's fingers and Naomi retreated with the hair gel to return a moment later with an assortment of guns and knives.

"{How many of these are you wanting me to carry?}" Eric asked.

"{You need a gun,}" said Hana. "{Beyond that, whatever suits you -- I presume you do know how to use a handgun?}"

Eric ignored her last comment and selected a nine millimetre pistol from the array, along with a spare ammunition clip and a shoulder holster -- not his preferred holster type, but far more convenient for wearing with a suit. He slipped his jacket off, put on the holster, fitted the gun into it and replaced his jacket. Hana nodded approvingly. After a glance over the knives, he selected a small dagger that could be easily concealed.

On seeing Hana's raised eyebrows, he smiled faintly. "{Like you're not carrying something hidden somewhere they're not gonna look?}"

"Touché," she agreed. "Thanks Naomi. Think we're done here."

"My pleasure, Hana," Naomi answered smiling. "And if you ever want to bring the hottie back -- y'know, the language thing's really **not** an issue..."

It was only by virtue of bending to fit the sheath to the inside of his calf that Eric avoided blushing at the outright lascivious comment from Naomi.

"No dice on that front," Hana was replying. "He's very firmly taken."

"Hana, you get all the guys," Naomi sighed. "Oh well -- guess I'll just have to hold on to the memory of his rear view. Man, what a view."

"{Haven't we got transportation to catch?}" Eric muttered. "{And maybe you'd like to remind your friend I understand English?}"

"{And spoil my fun -- not a chance. Grab the bag,}" Hana directed. Eric glared, but did as he was told. "See you soon, Naomi."

"Good huntin' Hana."

Eric was only too glad to follow Hana out of the wardrobe department, though he was more than well aware of Naomi's gaze following him out of the room. _Kim will get such a kick out of hearing about this..._

"{This way,}" Hana directed, leading Eric out of the building and onto a concrete apron which had, to Eric's mind, helipad practically stamped on it. "{Our ride should be here in a minute or two.}" She glanced at him. "{You know what the ride is?}"

"{Know the pilot,}" Eric corrected. "{Under normal circumstances, I'm her boss.}"

Hana stared, wide-eyed, startled into English. "Huh?"

Eric gave a faint chuckle, finally having broken her poise. "Frank didn't tell you, huh?"

"{Cantonese,}" Hana corrected.

Eric shrugged a little. "{Guess he didn't.}"

"{Tell me what?}"

"{My 'day' job,}" said Eric. "{He can't have done, otherwise you wouldn't have made the crack about the handgun.}"

Hana's eyebrows lifted. "{What hasn't he told me?}"

But at that moment, there was an impressive whine/growl/howling sound and out of the gathering dusk came a helicopter that looked, to Eric, as lethal and downright aggressive as any warplane he'd ever seen. Matt black with a white underbelly and a slightly 'drooped' nose, it resembled a shark and it was probably just as deadly through the air as a shark was through water. It was a sight that Eric was incredibly glad to know was on **his** side.

The chopper touched down with the faintest whine of hydraulics, barely audible over the growl of turning rotors. The cockpit door popped open and out bounced a familiar female form. A grey flight suit had replaced the navy-blue Silver Guardian uniform Eric had last seen her wearing, but for all that, he was glad to have his hunch play out. It was definitely good to see a friendly face -- and Taylor, even with her occasional bursts of attitude, was definitely that.

"We have a bit of a hustle on here, folks," she was saying as she neared them, "so if you to...holy fuck! Eric Myers look at you!"

Maybe he'd withdraw that friendly face comment. He glanced at Hana who was rolling her eyes heavenward. "{I did warn you I knew her,}" he retorted, before adding in English, "Taylor, if you want to be on traffic duty for the rest of your natural life, you'll just keep that up."

Taylor just snickered. "So much for the vacation, huh?"

"Please don't remind me of that," Eric replied with a sigh. "Didn't you say something about a hustle?"

"I did. Guess your explanations can wait." Suddenly, Taylor looked all business. "If you'd like to climb in -- we'll have you into Kwangju in time for dinner." Taylor turned towards the chopper.

Eric let Hana enter the aircraft cabin, then put a hand out to stop Taylor from following.

"Taylor, I need a favour."

For a second, he thought she was going to give a smart-ass response. "Name it."

From his pocket, he pulled out his wedding band and handed it over to Taylor. "Look after that for me, will you? If..." He shrugged uncomfortably.

"Kim'll get it," Taylor promised. "But I know you, Eric. 'If' didn't happen at East Hills, and it ain't gonna happen now." She smiled. "Now get your butt in that aircraft, 007."

"Yes ma'am." But though he might have rolled his eyes at the James Bond quip, Eric felt considerably better for knowing Taylor had his wedding band. It meant that whatever happened to him, Kimberly would get to hear the truth and not some watered down version from Peterson. _Plan for the worst and hope for the best._

* * *

_TO BE CONTINUED..._


	3. Three

Disclaimer: See part 1! Nothing's changed.

Speech between {} is in Cantonese.

Many thanks to Vanessa and Gamine for patiently picking out the nits (and preventing me from vanishing into plot hole hell). For anyone interested, I actually have pictures of what Eric would look like in this gear (!!) -- just drop me an email if you're interested.

Please offer feedback -- it tells me how I'm doing.

~*~

Kimberly finished wrapping the box of cookies which were destined for Alice's class teacher and winced as the baby kicked hard.

"All right, all right, kiddo, I know you're missing your daddy," she murmured, smoothing a free hand over the bump. "But kicking the heck out of your mother's no way to get him back." She sighed. "I wish it was."

"Mommy," said Alice, wandering into the room, "do you think daddy will be back for Christmas?"

Kimberly sighed again. "I don't know, honey."

"Why does he have to do stuff like this?" Alice wanted to know.

_Because if he didn't, he wouldn't be the Eric Myers we both fell for, Alice,_ Kimberly mused. But that was probably something that Alice wasn't ready to understand yet. "Because it's his job to do it," she settled for. "So that the rest of the world's safe for you to play in."

"But why does it have to always be my daddy?"

_Why does it always have to be my husband? _Kimberly echoed. Though she knew that wasn't entirely fair. All of her friends had, at one time or another, made sacrifices to keep the world a safe place. But Eric seemed to be the only one who **kept** being called. Maybe that wasn't fair, either. Wes and Jen were both still active Rangers and Silver Guardians. The last big event -- East Hills -- could easily have been either one of them. _But this mess could only happen to Eric._ Kimberly sighed.

"I don't know, sweetheart," she finally replied. The doorbell rang at that moment. "That'll be Wes and Jen, with Rick and Max -- go let them in, and let me clear up in here," she directed.

"OK." Alice sighed and went to open the front door.

The baby kicked again. "All right, all right -- I'll try and cheer up," Kimberly murmured. "It's Christmas, right?" So why didn't she feel in the holiday mood?

~*~

_"So this is Christmas, and what have you done? Another year over, and a new one just begun..."_

Irritatingly, as Eric tried to find a comfortable position on the jump seat in the helicopter's aft cabin, he found himself thinking of the old John Lennon and Yoko Ono Christmas song. As a kid, it had annoyed him with its very irritating tune. As an adult -- and as a Marine serving in some of the nastier trouble spots in the world -- it had annoyed him with its cheery worldview. Currently, though, it served to underline the fact that he was somewhere he shouldn't be doing something he shouldn't be doing. Not at this time of the year.

"{Second thoughts?}" Hana enquired.

"{Like I've actually been given a choice about any of this to be having second thoughts,}" Eric retorted.

"{Colonel Peterson didn't tell me,}" she said.

"{No, I don't suppose he did.}" Eric closed his eyes. "{He does a lot of that.}"

"{You have a history with him?}"

"{You could say that.}" Eric snorted. Dropping into English, he said, "To borrow one of his favourite phrases, it's not terribly germane."

"Isn't it?"

Eric cracked an eye open and pinned Hana into place with a glare. "No, it isn't. This is as much my neck on the block as it is yours if this fouls up. Believe me, it's a heck of an incentive not to screw up." Hana said nothing. Eric closed his eye once more and shifted in the seat again. "{You should sleep.}"

"{Excuse me?}"

Eric opened his eyes again. "A good soldier grabs sleep whenever they have the chance because they never know when they'll get the chance again. Figure that applies to spies, too."

"We'll be there in three hours."

"And you couldn't use some extra sleep?" Eric queried.

Hana said nothing. Eric closed his eyes.

"{Who are you?}" Hana asked, suddenly.

"{Didn't we already cover this when you were re-acquainting me with Cantonese?}"

"{All you told me was the equivalent of a name, rank and serial number.}"

"{Then maybe you should take the hint.}"

"{Why you?}"

"{Ask Peterson.}"

"{You don't like him much.}"

Eric snorted. "No shit." He sighed. "{It's a long story.}" He smiled faintly. "{Can you honestly say you **do** like him?}"

"{I respect him.}"

"{Not the question I asked.}"

"{He's my superior.}"

"{And everyone loves the boss?}" Eric snorted again. "{You're doing this because you've been ordered to. I'm doing this more or less because I've been ordered to. Neither of us is wildly keen on this mission, neither of us is wildly keen on Peterson. End of story.}" He shifted again. "{Now either grab some sleep or at least let me grab some before my head explodes.}"

~*~

"Have you heard from him?" Wes asked quietly.

Seeing that Alice was thoroughly occupied with Max, Wes and Jen's Labrador, Kimberly felt safe in answering, "Yeah -- this evening." She hadn't told Alice about the call, not wanting to get Alice's hopes up -- not when her own had been so spectacularly dashed.

"Does he know when he'll be home?"

Kimberly sighed and shook her head. "No. I got the feeling that the only reason he'd been given permission to call was because whatever mission this is was ready to start." She looked down at her hands, both resting on the prominent bump. "His chance to say goodbye."

"He's going to come back, Kim," said Wes firmly. "He's got too many reasons to."

"You didn't hear him, Wes," Kimberly replied softly. "He sounded exhausted."

"I'd back Eric when exhausted over anyone else in a fight," Wes responded.

Kimberly sighed and looked back up, meeting Wes' sympathetic gaze. "Maybe I'm just worrying for nothing. Maybe he'll walk through that front door tomorrow morning and he'll not have a scratch on him...and I'll wonder why I was so worried."

"You worry because you love him," said Wes gently. "That's never wrong."

"No." Kimberly sighed. "I guess it's not."

~*~

"Coming into Korean airspace," Taylor announced over the intercom system, pulling Eric from the light doze he'd fallen into. "ETA Twenty minutes."

He felt better for the sleep; more alert and focussed, which could only be a good thing. A glance in Hana's direction told him she was looking slightly amazed.

"{What?}"

"{You can sleep in this noise?}" She gestured vaguely to the rest of the cabin, though, to Eric's mind, this was one of the quieter helicopter cabins he'd been in.

Eric shrugged. "{Noise doesn't bother me.}"

Hana just shook her head. "{Do you remember your details?}"

"{Chen Wu, age thirty-four. Triad boss. Originally from Canton province. Speaks no English but understands it. Married to Chen Ming, an American-born Chinese aged thirty-one. Has a vicious streak -- once fed a victim's heart to his dogs.}" Eric met Hana's gaze. "{Nice guy.}" She shrugged. "{Did I miss anything?}"

"{One thing,}" said Hana as Eric felt the chopper begin its final descent.

"{Which is?}"

"{You're not going to like it.}"

Eric just looked at her. "{That's not a leap. What is it?}"

"{We're supposed to be married.}" Eric frowned. "{Married people sleep together.}"

~*~

Kimberly lay in the darkness, cuddling the pillow close. It was two o'clock in the morning and sleep refused to come.

Eric was a grown man. A trained fighter. He would -- and could -- take care of himself. And he'd promised he'd come back in one piece.

At the same time, Kimberly knew him. Knew that he would carry out the mission, whatever that was, to the best of his ability.

What if that clashed with his promise?

Would he choose her or the mission?

Was it even fair of her to expect him to choose?

Kimberly started to cry softly into the pillow. God this hurt. She had known that this sort of thing was a possibility -- that being in Eric's life would mean that there were times when they would be apart because of who Eric was. Known -- and thought she'd accepted it. But in the dark of the night, now, so close to Christmas and so alone, she realised that there was no way to accept it.

The baby gave a kick -- though only a gentle one this time, almost as if it was trying to comfort her. Kimberly smiled through her tears and snaked a hand down to gently pat the bump.

"Your mommy misses your daddy," she murmured softly. "Misses him very much." She cuddled the pillow closer. It was a poor substitute. _Too much?_

~*~

Eric said nothing on the journey to the hotel, not trusting himself. The implications of Hana's words -- that he would be expected to betray Kimberly completely -- left him seething, and he wasn't entirely sure who he wanted to strangle first. Peterson, for getting him involved in this mess in the first place, or Hana for so coolly bringing up the issue.

Seeing as she was to hand, Eric suspected Hana was just shading it.

"{It's my job,}" said Hana as she closed the hotel room door behind them, "{to make sure that we both come through this with our necks intact}."

Eric turned a force ten glare on her. "{And how far are you expecting me to go?}"

"{As far as it takes.}"

"{Not happening.}" Eric folded his arms.

"{What do you mean?}"

"{What do you think I mean?}" Eric retorted. "{I am married, for real, and you are not her.}"

"{You're going to get us killed.}"

Eric snorted. "{Bullshit.}" Hana opened her mouth to protest, but he shook his head. "{We do this my way, or we don't do this, and the way I see it -- thanks to Peterson's interference -- you need me a hell of a lot more than I need you.}" Hana's mouth closed with a snap. "{We go to Soong's compound tomorrow morning, yes?}" Hana nodded. "{And we stay there for the duration?}" Another nod. "{OK. Unless there are video cameras in the room, I sleep on the floor.}"

"{And if there are?}"

Eric just fixed her with a look. "{I'm not into exhibitionism.}"

~*~

Slowly, Kimberly moved around the kitchen, putting coffee on to percolate. It was early -- almost too early to be up -- but she hadn't been able to sleep and she hadn't been comfortable in bed. 

She suddenly realised what she was doing, and stopped.

"Damn it!" she muttered, staring at the percolator. She'd been running automatic pilot. Again. This was the third morning in a row she'd started to put the percolator on for someone who wasn't there.

The baby kicked.

"I know, honey." Kimberly sighed and started to empty the coffee grounds from the percolator.

The doorbell rang, making her jump and sending the wasted grounds all over the countertop.

"Damn it!"

Kimberly headed for the door, leaving the mess behind. She would clear it up later. Pulling her robe tighter around herself, she reached the front door and peeped through the spy hole, not really sure who was likely to be calling at barely six o'clock in the morning.

The next moment, she was practically tearing the door open as she realised it was Taylor standing on the door step.

"Hey Kim," Taylor said, smiling faintly as the door opened.. "Sorta figured you'd be up right about now."

Kimberly stared in non-comprehension for a second. "Huh?"

Taylor's smile broadened into a grin. "OK. Guess by 'up' I didn't necessarily mean awake."

Kimberly gathered together the shreds of her self-possession and opened the door wider. "C'mon in -- I'm sorry. Bad night."

Taylor nodded, looking somewhat knowing, as she entered the house. "Alice isn't up?"

Kimberly shook her head. "No -- she'll sleep till noon if I let her."

Taylor nodded. "Good. That way we can **talk** rather than having to dance around the subject."

Kimberly's eyebrows skyrocketed at that. "What do you mean?"

For answer, Taylor shook her head. "Not until you're sitting down."

Kimberly found herself being gently but firmly directed into one of the kitchen chairs by the blonde pilot, who then proceeded to clear up the mess of spilled grounds and then make hot chocolate.

"Taylor?" Kimberly queried as the other woman set a steaming mug of cocoa in front of her.

"I'm sorta looking for answers," Taylor admitted, sitting down. "And I think I can give you some, too."

~*~

Eric awoke suddenly. The dream had been so real, so life-like, so vivid... He'd almost forgotten the power of those nightmares -- hadn't seen the images in nearly two years, had grown accustomed to full nights of sleep -- but this was more than enough to dredge it all back up. Heart pounding a mile a minute, breath coming in ragged gasps, he felt the residual adrenaline pumping through his body and found he was actually trembling. Seemed like his body had got even more used to the lack of the nightly terrors. This one had hit him hard.

"{Are you all right?}" Hana's soft query told him that he must have at least made some sound. Seeing as she was still on the bed, and wasn't sporting any visible injuries, he guessed she either hadn't tried to wake him or if she had, he hadn't reacted the way he'd reacted almost every other occasion someone else had brought him out of the nightmares. Half memories of bodily throwing Jen across a room along with other, darker memories loomed for a moment or two.

"{Are you all right?}" she repeated.

Eric slowly drew in a breath and let it out. "Yeah." He swallowed. "I will be." She frowned. He shrugged. English was almost beyond him at this moment, never mind Cantonese.

"{You sounded like my dad used to,}" she said. "{I wanted to wake you -- but I remember what happened to my mother.}" She leaned over and turned the light on. In the light, he could see that though she might have frowned at him, she understood. There was a real sympathy in her expression -- perhaps all the more surprising given the argument they'd had before going to bed. He made to speak, but she shook her head. "{Give yourself time.}" She swung herself out of bed. "{I'll get you a drink.}"

Eric finally sat up as she moved around the room, collecting a glass from the shelf above the mini bar and taking it into the bathroom. He heard her run a tap. A moment later and she returned, glass full of water.

She offered it to him. "{Here.}" 

He accepted it and took a sip. It did seem to help. "{Thank you.}" The kindness really was unexpected. "{Why?}"

Hana smiled faintly. "{Call it a peace offering.}"

~*~

Kimberly smiled faintly as Taylor finished her explanations.

"He was really wearing the suit and the shirt...and stuff?"

Taylor grinned. "Ooh yeah. You may want him to hang onto that. If he hadn't been married, I might have been very seriously tempted."

Kimberly snickered faintly. "I just may at that." Her smile faded. "What's Peterson playing at? Eric's not a spy."

Taylor's grin likewise faded. She reached across the table and gave one of Kimberly's hands a squeeze. "No, he's not. But," she continued, "I don't think he needs to be."

"What do you mean?"

"I know him," said Taylor. "And my first reaction on seeing him dressed like that was 'I don't want to get on the bad side of this guy'. He's intimidating as hell and he's got the language down. All he needs to do is walk into wherever this place is and be all attitude and whoever this is about is going to believe he is what he's supposed to be."

Kimberly looked down. "You think so?"

"I know so, Kim," said Taylor firmly. She squeezed Kimberly's hand again. "He can do this."

~*~

Eric stood in front of the window, watching the sun rise over the unfamiliar cityscape. Kwangju. Until three days ago, he'd never heard of the Korean city, never mind expected to be there. Now, here he was.

"{What time is it?}"

"{Seven o'clock.}" Eric didn't bother turning round.

"{You did get some sleep?}"

"{Yeah.}" _Just not much._ He heard the sound of Hana climbing out of bed. "{What's the arrangement with Soong?}"

"{We meet his associate at nine o'clock,}" Hana answered. "{The associate will courier us up to Soong's compound.}"

Eric nodded. "{Understood.}" He rolled his shoulders, trying to relieve the tension that was rapidly settling in them. "{You presumably have a way to communicate with Peterson?}"

"{Not going to be able to call a commando raid down if I don't,}" came the response from the bathroom.

Eric smiled faintly. "{Just checking.}"

He really was going to do this.

He had to be nuts.

* * *

_TO BE CONTINUED..._


	4. Four

Disclaimer: See part 1 -- nothing's changed!

Speech between {} is in Cantonese.

With grateful thanks to Gamine for patiently picking out the nits and cattle prodding as necessary and to Jacks for the name. Also with grateful thanks to my mother (who's been doing genealogy beside me and been periodically asking me to look things up on the 'net) just because.

Please offer feedback -- it tells me how I'm doing

~*~

At five minutes to nine, Eric settled the designer sunglasses into place and allowed Hana to lead him down to the hotel lobby. The mirrored glasses both added to the image and hid the fact that though he had an Asiatic cast to his face, his eyes were very much European in shape. It did mean he was consigned to wearing the glasses most of the time, but it beat the hell out of the alternative, and it wasn't as if they were darkly tinted.

"Ms Chen?" An immaculately dressed man seemed to materialise out of almost thin air as they entered the lobby. "My name is Ahn Chung-Hee; Mr Kim sent me to meet you."

Hana smiled. "A pleasure, Mr Ahn. May I present my husband, Chen Wu?" On cue, Eric inclined his head in a regal manner.

Chung-Hee nodded back. "An honour, Mr Chen."

"{Tell him, the honour is mine,}" Eric said.

Hana smiled and translated. Chung-Hee nodded again. "This way."

"{Perfect,}" said Hana sotto voce as they followed Chung-Hee out of the lobby and over to a waiting limo.

Eric nodded just fractionally. First hurdle crossed successfully. As he climbed into the passenger compartment of the limousine, he realised -- somewhat to his consternation -- that there was already a driver in place. That meant he was going to have to try and keep up small talk. _Oh, great..._ Hana -- perhaps sensing his unease -- gave his arm a discreet squeeze as she sat down, reminding him that he didn't have to hold a direct conversation. That might at least make life slightly easier. Maybe.

"Mr Kim's estate is some distance outside of the city," Chung-Hee explained as the driver pulled away smoothly. "I trust that you are both comfortable?"

Eric inclined his head in another imperious nod.

"Quite," said Hana smoothly.

Chung-Hee smiled. "Good. I also trust that your journey to my humble country was acceptable?"

"{You can tell him it was,}" Eric said. "{But barely.}"

Hana nodded and translated, adding, "Regrettably, it was a most turbulent journey."

Chung-Hee offered a grimace. "My most humble apologies."

Eric gave a bark of laughter. "{I was aware Mr Kim was a powerful man, I was not aware that he could control the weather.}"

Hana translated.

Chung-Hee smiled. "Perhaps one day."

Eric nodded regally again. "{Perhaps, indeed.}"

Eric settled back into his seat and looked out of the limo's windows. They were well into the suburbs of Kwangju now, travelling north-east, to judge from the position of the sun. The scenery they were travelling through was very pretty, certainly -- very leafy -- but so alien and unlike anything Eric had seen during his travels with the USMC or during his time growing up in Southern California. It was too lush. Too vivid.

Give him the desert any day.

"{OK?}" Hana enquired.

"{Fine,}" Eric replied automatically. "{Admiring the scenery.}"

"This is a beautiful country, is it not?" said Chung-Hee, probably guessing what they were discussing.

"{It's certainly striking,}" Eric answered. 

Hana translated. Chung-Hee smiled.

After that, the conversation lapsed somewhat. The journey took them onwards, still travelling North-East, and upwards into wooded foothills. _This is going to be quite a tough place to raid,_ Eric found himself thinking. _Landscape's got too many places to booby trap._

They crossed a wide, raging river via a quaint wooden bridge.

"This is the start of Mr Kim's estate," stated Chung-Hee. "The river is the Somjingang. It runs along two sides of the estate, providing a natural barrier from casual tourists, shall we say."

"Eminently sensible," commented Hana. "Mr Kim is a very wise man."

"{Very,}" said Eric. _Bit too wise, if you ask me._ "{Ask him if it's much further, please.}"

Hana looked slightly amused by the politeness as she translated the question.

"No -- another mile, perhaps."

Eric nodded. _Puts the heart of the complex well into the hills. Sure hope Peterson's commandos are good._

A couple of minutes more passed, then the limo pulled into a forest clearing and rolled to a smooth stop in front of a low-rise, pagoda-style building. Standing in front of the wide open door was a man Eric recognised as Kim Soong, along with a couple of men in black suits with folded arms. _They'll be some of the hired 'help',_ Eric noted. At first glance, the two heavies looked average 'heavy' build -- six foot mobile brick wall-types -- but as Eric climbed out of the limo, he realised that actually, they were fractionally shorter than he was, they simply **looked** big when put next to Soong, who was of very slight build and short stature. _Well this is new -- me being the tallest guy here!_ But that thought just made Eric more nervous. Was his build out of place?

"Ah, Mr Chen -- an honour for us to finally meet," Soong began, pulling Eric's attention to the Korean. Like Chung-Hee, Soong was dressed immaculately. Unlike Chung-Hee, who was wearing a Western style suit, Soong's dress was more native in style, but still cut immaculately, and Eric suspected the gold threads in the blue-and-gold tunic were more than likely to be real gold. This was a man with some serious money.

Eric bowed respectfully. "{An honour indeed and one I am happy to return.}"

Hana, who had followed suit and bowed, translated.

"And you must be the lovely Ming -- I may call you Ming, yes?"

"But of course," Hana replied, smiling. "It is a pleasure to meet you after so many conversations."

Soong returned the smile. "I am only sorry that I was forced to inconvenience you both by calling this meeting."

"{It is but a small inconvenience,}" said Eric. "{We are very interested in what you offer.}"

Hana translated.

Soong smiled. "Good. Chung-Hee, perhaps you might show our guests to their room so that they might freshen up before we begin."

"By all means," said Chung-Hee. "This way, please."

Eric wasn't entirely surprised to see that they weren't entering the building via the ostentatiously open front door. Instead, Chung-Hee led them around to a side entrance and into a traditionally styled bedroom area.

"Please, if there is anything else you require, do not hesitate to ring," Chung-Hee said, indicating a discreet bell pull just inside the door. "Mr Kim wishes you to have every comfort."

"Thank you -- and please," said Hana smiling, "give our humble thanks to Mr Kim. I am sure this will be most comfortable."

Chung-Hee nodded and withdrew. Eric opened his mouth to say something, but Hana held up a hand, stilling him. He listened and heard Chung-Hee's retreating footsteps. She smiled and nodded.

"{Verdict?}" Eric asked.

"{I think your honour will remain intact,}" Hana answered, glancing around the room.

Eric followed her visual tour. "{No insect infestations?}"

"{None that I can see.}"

Eric looked at Hana. "{You don't sound surprised.}"

"{I'm not,}" she said. "{He'd assume we'd find them.}"

"{Are you sure?}"

Looking a mix of amused and exasperated, Hana pulled out a small, black box from the miniscule purse she was carrying. "{Insect detector,}" she said. "{It finds infestations, it vibrates. No vibrations.}"

Eric smiled sheepishly and gratefully took off the shades, blinking a few times in the process. "{Sorry.}"

Hana smiled back and shook her head. "{No worries. Are you OK?}"

"{They're heavy,}" Eric answered, nodding and rubbing his nose absently. "{And I've never been a huge fan of sunglasses.}"

Hana shrugged a little apologetically. "{Well, you're doing well so far,}" she said. "{I'm impressed.}"

Eric smiled faintly. "{I'm highly motivated.}"

Hana nodded. "{What are your first impressions?}"

Eric moved across the room towards the window, sorting his thoughts. "{Haven't really got a read on Soong,}" he admitted. "{This place is going to be tough to storm, though.}"

Hana's eyebrows lifted. "{Are you sure?}"

"{Jungle's just ripe for booby trapping -- and you can bet Soong has it trapped,}" Eric answered. "{Then there's the river.}"

Hana might have had a reply to that, but at that moment, the sound of approaching footsteps alerted them that their guide was probably on his way back. Eric sighed and slipped the sunglasses back on, just as Chung-Hee knocked on the door.

"If you are ready," he called, "I will take you to Mr Kim's meeting room."

"That would be perfect," Hana answered. "{Shall we?}"

"{Lead on,}" Eric answered.

Hana nodded and led the way out of the room. Chung-Hee smiled as they appeared.

"This way, please," he said.

Eric found himself being led through a regular warren of intersecting passageways that had probably been designed deliberately to confuse so as to avoid interlopers from finding sneaking easy. _This guy isn't paranoid, but the man following him is,_ he mused.

Eventually, they were led out into a beautiful courtyard garden, replete with ornamental pond, tinkling fountain and manicured shrubs and bushes. It was so perfect, it almost looked as if it had been taken straight from a photograph. _Where's the snake in this garden paradise?_ Eric found himself wondering. Then his eyes fell on Soong, who was seated on a comfortable looking bench seat under the shelter of a small pergola. _There he is._

"This is my pride and joy," Soong called, presumably seeing Eric's roving gaze.

"{It is certainly a work of art,}" Eric answered, smiling.

Hana translated, nodding in agreement.

"I thank you," Soong replied, smiling in return. "Would you care for some tea?"

__

Ugh, Eric found himself thinking as he reached the pergola and realised Soong was drinking green tea. Unfortunately, Hana was already nodding and answering, "We would be honoured to take tea with you, Mr Kim."

Soong smiled and clicked his fingers. A retinue of servants suddenly appeared and produced more tea cups and fresh tea even as Eric, Hana and Chung-Hee sat down in the pergola. As the tea was poured, Eric decided he was grateful that at least this wasn't Japan, with the elaborate tea rituals to be observed. _But green tea?! If I get out of this in one piece I am **so** going to make Peterson regret this._ Doing his level best not to grimace at the grassy taste, Eric sipped from his tea cup.

"And, so to business," said Soong, smiling genially. "I must explain the reason for this meeting," he continued. "Regrettably, one of my former employees decided to..." Soong paused, clearly hunting for a word. "Sell out? I believe that is the correct term."

"{That is most unfortunate,}" Eric commented.

Hana translated. Soong nodded. "Indeed. I have found myself forced to move all my operations to this location for the interim. A most inconvenient thing to be required to do at short notice. On the other hand," and he paused to smile, "it does allow for interested parties to see first hand the final stages of the trials."

"{That would be most educational,}" Eric answered. "{It is always good to know what to expect.}"

Hana translated.

Soong chuckled. "But of course. I shall have Chung-Hee show you around the facility after lunch, if that would be acceptable."

Eric smiled, taking special care to look predatory. "{Most. I thank you.}"

After Hana's translation, Soong's smile turned similarly predatory. "It will be my pleasure. I assure you, you will be most satisfied."

~*~

After a light lunch -- over which, Soong promised that the evening meal would be something special -- Eric and Hana found themselves being led down some steep, stone stairs by Chung-Hee.

"Be careful," he called up. "There is a sharp bend just here."

Sotto voce, Eric muttered, "{Where the hell are we going?}"

Hana responded, "{Soong's 'secret' lab, at a guess.}"

Eric didn't say any more, but inwardly, he added another notch of difficulty to the commando raid. To judge by the length of the staircase this lab complex was a good thirty feet beneath the foundations of the house. Unless Peterson was planning on dropping a bunker buster on it, the lab complex would escape intact, and Eric doubted that even Peterson had enough pull to finesse dropping a bunker buster on Korean soil.

Eventually, they reached flat hallway, painted, tiled and lit to look like hallway in just about any hospital or clinic Eric had ever seen.

"Welcome to Mr Kim's research facility," said Chung-Hee. "It has been here that we have conducted all the development of the tmazacol. It is also here where the final stage trials of the drug have been conducted."

"{Impressive,}" Eric commented.

Hana offered the translation. Chung-Hee smiled, a very obvious pride in the location showing. "It is, indeed, Mr Chen. A most impressive set up. What would you wish to see first?"

"Perhaps," said Hana, "we might see the drug in action."

Chung-Hee nodded. "Of course. This way."

He led them through a pair of double doors. Eric found himself standing on a catwalk that crossed a cavernous room. Either side and below the catwalk were cells -- there was no other term for them -- with a solitary individual in. The cells were four-foot square and white with walls and flooring fairly obviously made of tile. Given the central drain grill in each one, the cells were obviously designed for easy cleaning. The roof of the cell was made of Perspex or something similar. It meant that someone on the catwalk could easily look down into each cell and by virtue of the arc lights that ringed each cell, whoever looked down from the catwalk would be completely invisible to the unfortunates in the cells.

Eric only barely managed to contain a shudder. He'd already begun to size Soong up as something of a sadist, just from the gaps in the Korean's words, but this confirmed it and then some. If for no other reason than the sheer inhumanity of this facility, Eric promised himself Soong was going out of business.

"These," Chung-Hee explained, "are those trialing beta one through four. You may pick any of these."

"{Pick?}" Eric queried.

"{We did ask to see the drug in action,}" Hana reminded him.

__

We didn't, you did, Eric thought. Aloud, he said, "{That one.}" He pointed down into the nearest cell, where a Caucasian man was sitting in a huddle in the corner of his cell, clearly trying to hide.

Chung-Hee nodded and said something in rapid Korean. A moment later and the cell door opened, almost as if by magic, and a white-coated individual hustled the occupant of the cell out and off somewhere. Meanwhile, Chung-Hee said, "This way, please."

A moment later and they entered a white, tiled interrogation room. Unlike the cells, this was a proper room -- Eric could see the white tile extending right the way across the ceiling. He could also see a very obvious video camera in one corner of the room. That probably meant there was a microphone somewhere, though he couldn't see it. A glance in Hana's direction suggested that the 'insect' detector in her purse had vibrated.

A moment later still and the test subject was brought in. The man looked emaciated, close to. Ragged beard growth, shaggy hair and hollow cheeks suggested to Eric that this man, whoever he was, had been in captivity for quite some time. _Poor bastard._

"The subject is fully dosed," said Chung-Hee. Confidentially, he added, "You picked an excellent test subject -- this one seems to have something he genuinely doesn't want us to know."

Eric felt his stomach knot up. This had been him. Could have been him. Five years ago. He couldn't do this...

"What is your name?" Chung-Hee was asking.

"George Borgh," the prisoner answered, and instantly, he doubled over in obvious and absolute wracking pain.

Behind his shades, Eric closed his eyes. He couldn't watch this.

"What do you do for a living?"

"I'm a student...backpacking around Korea."

Even with his eyes closed, Eric could hear 'George's' groan as the pain overtook him again.

"Would you like to try this, Mr Chen?"

__

No. But the man Chen Wu was supposed to be would answer yes; would be enjoying this. Distantly, he heard his own voice answering, "{Tell him, yes.}"

The next hour passed by in a haze as far as Eric was concerned. He was vaguely aware of his voice providing questions and commands, but without any conscious input. His one conscious thought was: This could have been me.

It was only when Chung-Hee commented, "My! You really **do** have a talent for brutality, Mr Chen," that Eric realised 'George' had passed out under the strain. Eric felt nauseated.

"{I need to get out of here,}" he muttered to Hana.

She looked shaky. "{I agree.}" To Chung-Hee, she managed an imperious, "I think we've seen enough, for now."

Chung-Hee, who was thoroughly unaffected by it all, nodded. "Of course. This way."

It was only through a supreme effort of will that Eric made it back to the room without vomiting. But once he was back, all bets were off. Barely had Chung-Hee's footsteps died away and he was in the bathroom, retching.

How could he have done that? How the hell could he have been that cruel? What kind of sick bastard was he? How could he have done that to someone that could have **been** him, but for a few quirks of fate?

The shock of a cool wash cloth being placed on the back of his neck broke through the self-loathing. He half looked up. Hana was crouching beside him, her hand gently squeezing his shoulder.

"{You did what you needed to,}" she said softly.

"{And that makes me feel so much better,}" Eric retorted.

"{It's all any of us can do.}"

Eric slowly shook his head, wishing his stomach would settled again. "{You're wrong.}"

"{What do you mean?}"

"{**All** I could have done would have been punched out Chung-Hee's lights and **stopped** that...that...}" But Eric couldn't find a word suitable in either Cantonese or English.

"{What do you mean?}" Hana repeated.

"Don't you get it?" he whispered, dropping into English. "That was me."

"{What was?}"

"You wanted to know about the nightmare," he replied. "That **room** was the nightmare. That man was me. Are you getting it yet?"

"{You were...?}"

Eric scooted back, away from the toilet bowl, and met Hana's incredulous gaze. "Can't even say it, huh? I can say it. Tortured. Yeah. Yeah I was. For two months."

Hana looked appalled. "{I...I didn't...}"

"No. Well. Peterson's good at that." Eric snorted. 

Now that he was beyond the first horror, he was furious. All the anger that had been building since Peterson had shown up on his doorstep only four days earlier and that Eric had been doing his best to swallow since the start of this insanity suddenly returned, full strength. For a few seconds, he teetered on the brink of losing his temper completely.

Hana seemed to realise that and she wisely said nothing.

The moment passed. Things began to slide back into perspective. Hana was right. As much as he hated it, and as bad as it felt, he knew that what he'd done **was** all he could do at that point. Killing Chung-Hee would just have gotten himself killed -- and Hana too. It wouldn't have finished Soong's operation. It wouldn't have helped the poor sap in the interview room. It wouldn't have got him even with Peterson. It certainly wouldn't have let him keep his promise to Kimberly.

"{I tell you what we are going to do,}" he finally said, dropping back into Cantonese. "{We are going to finish this. And then, I am going to kick seven bells of shit out of Peterson for putting me here.}"

* * *

__

TO BE CONTINUED...


	5. Five

Disclaimer: See part 1 -- nothing's changed!

Speech within {} is in Cantonese

Many thanks to Kahva, Nessa and Gamine for patiently picking out the nits.

Please offer feedback -- it tells me how I'm doing.

~*~

Slowly, Kimberly climbed the stairs, heading for bed. She was late this evening. It was just past midnight, five days before Christmas. Taylor's early morning visit seemed like a lifetime ago. And though, at the time, she had taken Taylor's reassurances to heart, as the day had worn on, they had faded.

Other fears were presenting themselves in addition to the basic worry of whether or not Eric would come home safely. Taylor had said he was partnered by one of Peterson's top aides. A woman. Someone who unquestionably match Eric skill for skill.

It wasn't that Kimberly didn't trust Eric. She did. Implicitly.

And yet...

She couldn't help the doubt. Couldn't help but worry. Couldn't help but wonder if there might be another reason why he wouldn't come back.

She slipped into bed and cuddled the pillow close.

It was going to be another long night.

~*~

Dinner proved to be another trial to be endured as far as Eric was concerned. He could barely touch the food and Soong wanted to discuss the tmazacol demonstration. After his near-breakdown, it was the last thing Eric wanted to discuss. It was really only with Hana's help that he got through the meal. Mercifully, Soong also expected them to both be suffering jetlag, which meant he was quite happy to see his guests to bed at an early hour.

So now Eric was ostensibly trying to get some sleep while Hana conducted some form of secret contact with Peterson. Except that sleep was not forthcoming -- and Eric wasn't entirely sorry about that. He was tired, true -- exhausted was probably nearer the mark -- but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that if he slept, he was going to suffer more night-terrors. And then there was an underlying worry about when -- or if -- Hana would return.

He really was going to turn Peterson into dog food if he got out of this. Or maybe... Eric frowned. Didn't Wes' dad have connections to the DoD? Turning some of Peterson's methods against him held some appeal -- but flat out beating Peterson to a bloody pulp with his own hands seemed more satisfying.

Quick, light footsteps approached. Eric tensed. Was this Hana returning, or was this someone checking up on them? He willed his body to relax as he lay on the bed, trying as best he could to feign the sleep that wasn't coming anyhow else. He heard the door open and close. Then the light flicked on.

"{Peterson will be here tomorrow night,}" Hana announced, starting to slip her shoes off.

Eric opened his eyes -- then wished he hadn't as he was momentarily blinded by the light. He finally squinted up at Hana. "{No problems?}"

She smiled and shook her head. "{Not one.}" Her smile turned sympathetic. "{How're you doing?}"

Eric grimaced, sitting up. "{Don't suppose you carry Nitol in that magic purse of yours?}"

Hana winced. "{That bad?}"

"{Unless you want me screaming the place down,}" Eric retorted somewhat pointedly. 

"{I'm sorry -- I didn't mean that quite how it sounded.}" She sighed. "{And no, I don't have any kind of sleeping pills.}" She hesitated. "{Are...}"

"{Yes,}" said Eric tersely. He tugged one of the blankets free from the bed and started to move towards the gap between bed and wall.

"{What're you doing?}"

"{Remember our arrangement?}"

"{I'll take the floor,}" said Hana. "{No sense...}"

"{Doesn't matter a shit if I'm wide awake on the floor, bed or ceiling -- wide awake is wide awake. You might as well sleep comfortable.}" Not permitting her any more argument, Eric settled himself on the floor, well wrapped up in the blanket. "{Sleep.}" He sighed. "{At least I can hide it if my eyes are bloodshot.}"

Shooting him a look that told him she'd probably like to argue the point more, Hana did as she was told, switched off the light and climbed into bed.

"{Which branch of the services were you in?}" Hana asked softly.

Eric smiled faintly. "{Who says I was?}"

He heard her snort inelegantly. "{I didn't graduate from Quantico top of my class for nothing.}" Eric said nothing. "{Peterson probably wouldn't have known about you flat out if you weren't one branch or other of the services.}" Eric still said nothing. "{And there's only a few candidates -- given what you said this afternoon.}"

"{If you say so.}"

"{Don't want me to go there, huh?}"

"{Not really.}" Eric sighed. "{It's old history. Who I was...what I was doesn't matter. I'm not who I was.}"

Sotto voce, he heard her mutter, in English, "God help me, I'm stuck here with someone into Zen."

Eric smiled faintly. "{Go to sleep.}"

He heard her turn over and for a few minutes there was silence.

"{Are you sure you don't want the bed?}"

"{Positive.}" Eric sighed. "{Ex-Marine. Master Sergeant. Kosovo. Think you can sleep now?}"

"{I didn't...}"

"{You did.}" Eric pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache beginning to flare into life. It had been a constant part of his life, until meeting Kimberly. Now, the two-year absence made it seem so much worse than it had before. How had he stood the constant pressure just behind his eyes?

"{Are you all right?}" Hana's voice jerked him from his thoughts.

"Huh?"

"{You were groaning. Are you all right?}"

"{Headache.}" There didn't seem to be any point in denying that.

He heard a rustle, then found Hana leaning off the bed somewhat precariously to offer him a small packet. "{No sleeping pills, but I do have ibuprofen. Don't argue.}"

_Who's arguing?_ Eric wondered, fumbling to get one of the pills out of its packaging. He swallowed it gratefully, at the same time knowing it probably wasn't going to do that much good. On the other hand, he reflected as the pill went down, anything was better than nothing.

The next thing he knew, there was shaft of weak sunlight hitting the wall just above his head. Fuzzily, Eric wondered when -- or more accurately -- how that had happened.

"{My fault,}" said Hana from the bed, presumably guessing at what was running through his mind. 

Eric blinked, blearily at her. "Huh?"

"{Industrial strength pain killer on an empty stomach.}"

Eric blinked again. "Oh." He blinked some more, then rubbed his eyes. "{You knocked me out?}"

"{Pretty much.}" Hana looked slightly sheepish.

"Oh." Eric pushed a hand through his hair. Apart from feeling unbelievably sleepy, he actually felt almost as good as he might have done with a proper night's sleep.

"{You're not upset?}"

"{You knew that was going on an empty stomach?}" Hana nodded. Eric sighed and shrugged. "{Half think I ought to be -- but no. I'm not a masochist. Operating without sleep is something I **can** do -- but that doesn't mean I like it.}" He offered a lopsided sort of smile. "{Thanks. I guess.}"

Hana smiled back. "{Figure it was the least I could do.}"

~*~

"I'm bored."

Two words that Kimberly loathed. Given the expression on Alice's face as she said them, Kimberly was beyond loathing the phrase.

"When's daddy coming home?" Alice wanted to know.

"I don't know, sweetheart," Kimberly answered, silently pleading for Alice to drop the subject.

"Why does he **always** go away?"

"He doesn't." _It just feels like it._

"Yes he does," said Alice petulantly. "He's always going away. He doesn't love us."

"Alice, that is not true and you know that," said Kimberly, feeling her wafer-thin patience rapidly disappearing.

"He doesn't love me," Alice continued, paying Kimberly no heed. "That's why he's gone away." Unknowingly, the eight-year-old then echoed the constant refrain that was circling around Kimberly's mind: "He's not coming back."

"OK, that is it, madam," Kimberly snapped. "You will go to your room and you will not come down until I call you."

Alice fled, sobbing and yelling, "And you don't love me either!"

"Oh, I do love you, but right now I don't love the way you're behaving."

The only response was the slam of Alice's bedroom door. Kimberly collapsed back into her seat and burst into tears herself. _This sucks!_

~*~

Breakfast, Eric wasn't entirely surprised to learn, was in the courtyard garden under the pergola where they'd taken tea the previous day. After that followed a morning of heavy negotiations. Here, at least, he was on territory he knew. Time spent arguing budgetary details with Mr Collins and assorted corporate clones at Biolab on behalf of the Silver Guardians had refined his negotiating technique and Soong wasn't very different from Mr Collins. _In fact,_ he mused over a private, though non-insect-free, lunch, _though I know Wes' dad wouldn't thank me for the comparison, but for the legalities, Soong and Alexander are exactly the same._

"{It's going well,}" Hana commented, drawing Eric from his thoughts.

"{Too well?}"

Hana smiled and shook her head. "{No -- perfectly.}"

Eric lifted his eyebrows. "{You're happy?}"

"{Don't sound so surprised,}" she responded, laughing. "{I have faith in your negotiating skills.}"

~*~

Jen watched Kimberly watching Rick crawling around on his colourful play-rug and sighed. Kimberly looked terrible. The last five days had taken a visible toll. The other woman looked pale and tired and, Jen was almost positive, thinner. Time to take action.

"How are you doing, Kim?" she asked.

Kimberly opened her mouth to reply, and Jen could practically see the light and carefree answer Kimberly wanted to give evaporate. "I miss him," she finally whispered.

"Oh, Kim..." Jen leaned over and wrapped her arms around her friend, trying to reassure her. "It's gonna be OK."

Kimberly burst into tears that Jen suspected had very little to do with fluctuating hormones. "Is it?"

"Kim?"

"What if...what if he doesn't want to come back to me?" Kimberly asked. "I...I mean..."

"Kim, stop," said Jen firmly. She pulled back a little so as to meet Kimberly's tear-soaked gaze. "Whatever else does or doesn't happen, the one thing I can promise you is that there is **no** danger of Eric 'not wanting' to come back. He would walk over hot coals and broken glass for you."

"I...want to...to...but...look at me!" Kimberly exclaimed. "I...I'm fat...and he...he's somewhere...with...this gorgeous...female spy...who...who's pretending to be his wife...and...and what if...what if he likes that better? I...I mean..."

"One," said Jen patiently. "You're not fat, you're pregnant. Two, you're carrying Eric's child. He's been on cloud nine ever since you told him. Kim -- he's been **whistling** around SGHQ. He's so happy with his life with you it's almost disgusting!" Jen smiled to take any sting out of her words. "The Eric Myers I met when I first came to this century was a lot of things, but happy wasn't one of them."

"But..."

"No buts," said Jen resolutely. "You're the person who's done that. Let me put it another way," she continued when Kimberly moved to object. "In the two years you guys have been together, how many nightmares has Eric suffered?"

Kimberly frowned. "I...I...I'm not...what...?"

"How many times has he woken up screaming in the middle of the night?" Jen asked.

"He...hasn't," Kimberly managed. "But...how...?"

"I shared a house with him for six weeks -- more or less -- when we were after Biocon," Jen pointed out. "Not a set of circumstances where something like screaming terrors could be exactly hidden."

"But...he didn't..."

"He did," said Jen quietly. She made a decision. "The first night we were there. We both went to bed quite early. He went to sleep with his CD on a constant repeat..."

"That's a habit I've broken him of," Kimberly put in, smiling faintly.

Jen nodded. "It was on too loud and it was keeping me awake, so I snuck into his room and turned it off. I went to sleep, but the next thing I knew, it was about two o'clock in the morning and something had woken me. I didn't know what it was. Then I heard it again."

Despite herself, Kimberly asked, "What was it?"

"A whimper," said Jen. "It was just this really quiet, quiet sound, but it was so wrong, you know?" Kimberly nodded. "It took me all of thirty seconds to realise something was up. I went into Eric's room, expecting to find him tossing and turning -- that was how anyone else I'd ever met had nightmares." Kimberly nodded. "But he wasn't. He was rigid in bed -- as if he was in restraints. And then he screamed." Jen shivered, hearing the echo of that ghastly sound. "I tried to wake him up..."

"Did you know what it was about?" Kimberly asked softly.

"I put two and two together," said Jen. "I knew about the scars on his back...found out about those by accident, almost, when Ransik was here." Kimberly nodded at that and absently helped herself to one of the so far untouched crackers on the plate on the table between them. That had to be a good sign. "He's never told me in words -- and I've never asked." Kimberly nodded once more. "That night...I ended up having to shake him awake -- he was so deep in the dream...that even when he woke up, he wasn't **awake**."

"What happened?"

"He threw me across the room," Jen replied. "I'm lucky he wasn't fully awake -- if he'd done it fully awake, we wouldn't be having this conversation." Kimberly shuddered. "After that, he was very, very careful not to sleep too deeply. In fact, I don't think in that six weeks, **or** the three weeks or so that followed before Wes and I had to go to Merle Askot's trial, he really slept at all. He was too scared he'd give a repeat performance."

"I...thought he looked tired," Kimberly admitted.

Jen nodded. "He was." There was a lengthy pause as Kimberly digested that, then Jen asked gently, "How many times has he done that since you got together?"

"He hasn't," Kimberly admitted.

"You make him feel safe, Kim," said Jen softly. "You took him in and gave him a place where he could be safe. He's not going to give that up. Not for anything, least of all Frank Peterson and his spy games."

"You...really think so?"

"I know so," Jen replied. "Now," she continued, "if you can keep an eye on Rick for me, I'm going to make you some chicken soup."

"I'm not..."

Jen held up a hand, stalling the protest. "I'm not taking arguments. When was the last time you ate a whole meal?" Kimberly's mouth closed. "That's what I thought." She got to her feet. "Chicken soup, crackers and some fruit to follow."

~*~

Eric sank down onto the bed, more grateful for Hana's headache cure of the night before than he thought would have been possible.

"{Tough afternoon,}" Hana commented as she closed the door behind them.

"{No kidding.}" 

Where the morning had been reasonably straight forward, the afternoon session of negotiations had proved increasingly complex. Soong, it seemed, was looking for a US based broker, in addition to seeking buyers for tmazacol. As far as he was concerned, Chen Wu was the perfect man for the job. Provided the price was right. Keeping up with the discussion had taken all of Eric's concentration and the gaps in his Cantonese were beginning to make themselves known -- if not to Soong, then certainly to himself and Hana. The thought of having coped with this on no sleep...

"{What now?}" Eric asked as Hana slipped off her shoes.

"{We have dinner,}" she responded heading into the bathroom.

"{That wasn't what I meant.}"

Hana stuck her head out of the bathroom. "{I know. But I can't answer that question -- we've got to wait and see.}"

_Oh great..._

~*~

Peterson crouched beside Airwolf's nose and stared out into the jungle. December twenty-first. Shortest day of the year in the northern hemisphere -- which gave plenty of nightfall for what was planned.

_Sooner it's done, the sooner Eric's out of this,_ Peterson mused. _And the better for everyone._ Eric probably wouldn't believe it -- and God knew, Eric had little enough reason to believe it -- but Peterson regretted every single second of the last six days. Every single second and then some. If this hadn't truly been the last option...

Two years of hard work and one wrong move by the agent in place had forced them into plan Z. It was just as well Jimmy Hong was dead or Peterson would probably have already strangled him. Soong had moved all his facilities to this location and left them scrabbling for intelligence. No way to work someone else into Soong's retinue in time to prevent any tmazacol from reaching the outside world. The only option was to set up someone as a potential buyer.

Someone believable.

Soong preferred to deal with the Asian underworld. Though he did deal with the Russian mob occasionally, the rest of the European mob had so far turned their noses up to his products. They had their own sources. Therefore whatever buyer was evolved had to be Asian. The only Asiatic employees of The Firm, which numbered only a hundred and fifty employees at most and the majority of them were researchers and technicians, were Hana and Jimmy, and when the shit hit the fan three weeks earlier, that number went down to just one. And rather than waste time and risk the tmazacol getting out, Peterson had turned to the one person outside The Firm he knew could do the job.

Eric.

It was the easy route. He knew it. It would have even been better if he'd called Eric in when the shit first started flying, but at that point, he'd still held out a hope of resolving this some other way. _You fucked up, Frank._

From a pocket in the olive-drab jumpsuit he was wearing as jungle camouflage he pulled a dog-eared photograph. Captured when Eric was just two, by grandparents who barely tolerated the child. It had been sent to him with a stilted note telling him to please leave Annie alone. It was the only piece of Eric's childhood he'd ever been able to have. _So many mistakes._

"Cute kid."

Peterson started. He hadn't heard Taylor walk up behind him. "What...?"

Looking amused, Taylor pointed to the photograph. "Cute kid."

"Wha...oh." Peterson found himself blushing a little bit. "My son."

"Looks like that photo's done a few miles," Taylor commented, moving to crouch beside him. "Guess it's not all that recent."

"He'll be thirty in March." _I hope._

Taylor snickered. "Same age as..." She trailed off. "No."

Peterson looked at the blonde, who was shaking her head now. "No, what?"

"Le'me..." Without so much as a by your leave, Taylor twitched the photograph out of Peterson's fingers and studied it. "It has to be..." She handed the photograph back. "Eric."

For a moment, Peterson wondered whether or not he should try to bluff. Eric surely had good reasons for not having already told Taylor of their relationship. _Like the fact that bluntly we don't have one,_ he realised. _And I know exactly where the fault for that lies...and it's not with Annie's parents._ "Yeah." He sighed. "It is."

There was a lengthy silence. He guessed Taylor was probably putting together a few suspicions. He slid the photograph back into his pocket.

"Knowing Eric," Taylor finally said, "he's not here by choice." She shook her head again. "You really **are** a cold son of a bitch -- coercing your son into this..."

"I didn't have a choice."

Taylor snorted, getting back to her feet. "Right. Sure you didn't."

"I didn't."

"Prove it," Taylor snapped. "Why didn't you have any choice?"

Peterson looked down. There had been alternatives -- not as convenient, sure, but...

"You just picked the one that gave you most control," Taylor judged.

"I...didn't." Had he?

Taylor snorted again. "Right. You just keep telling yourself that. Maybe you can even delude yourself, but you're not fooling anyone else." Taylor turned towards Airwolf. "And if you were any sort of a father, it wouldn't be Eric in there. Not as some easy route out of trouble." The hatch popped. "An hour to dusk." Airwolf's hydraulics settled a little as Taylor climbed in, then the hatch sealed again.

~*~

Eric lay on the floor staring up at the ceiling. No headache tonight -- nor an empty stomach -- so no industrial strength painkillers. Hana had offered him one anyway. He'd declined. _Kim'd hand me my ass for being 'macho',_ he mused, smiling to himself. Except that this wasn't being 'macho'. This was avoiding past mistakes. It was why he'd learned to sleep with music on.

He hadn't quite been addicted, but he hadn't been too far from it either.

_Besides,_ he mused. _If Peterson's commandos do their job, this is all over. I can go home._

~*~

The commandos were good, but Eric's assessment -- as relayed by Hana -- was accurate. There was almost no way to raid this place. Peterson grimaced. Improvisation. This was Eric's strong suit, not his.

Hm.

Maybe he should let Eric do what Eric did best.

In a soft undertone, he spoke to the leader of the commandos. "Change of plan..."

* * *

_TO BE CONTINUED..._


	6. Six

Disclaimer: See part 1 -- nothing's changed!

Speech between {} is in Cantonese (though I'm figuring you've got that sussed now...)

Many thanks to Gamine, Vanessa and Kahva for patiently picking out the nits -- and also to Kahva for inspiring one of the following scenes. (She knows which one!)

Please offer feedback, it tells me how I'm doing...

~*~

At six o'clock, Eric got up. There was very little point in lying still any more. Whatever the commandos were or weren't doing, they weren't doing it any where near the main house. _We're screwed, _he guessed. _Raid failed. So much for the commandos._ Eric grimaced. Where did that leave him and Hana? 

He bent over the bed and gently tapped Hana on the shoulder. "{We need to talk.}"

"{Five minutes more, mom...}"

Eric smiled in amusement. _Guess me catching her dreaming is only fair._ "{No, not mom, and no, you can't have five minutes more.}"

Hana's eyes flicked open and she stared at him. "{I...what is it?}"

Eric sat down on the edge of the bed. "{Commando raid didn't happen or failed.}"

Hana sat up, blinking owlishly. "{What? Are you sure?}"

Eric nodded. "{Been all quiet since you went to sleep.}"

"{You haven't slept?!}"

Eric gave a huff of not particularly humorous laughter. "{Not that it matters right now, no. We need to work out what we're going to do.}"

Hana stared, wide-eyed now. "{Do?}"

"{There was a plan B, right?}" But Hana's expression told him the answer to that question. "Fuck." Eric closed his eyes and swallowed. _OK brain, start working._ "{What was the original schedule supposed to be?}"

"{We're pretty much out of it.}"

Eric shook his head. "{I don't believe Peterson had no plans as to how we got out of this.}"

"{The commandos were...}"

Mentally, Eric ran through his entire vocabulary of Serbo-Croat obscenities. When he ran out of those, he started on the German ones. Then for good measure, he ran through a wide selection of American and British ones before finishing where he'd started. "Fuck."

Hana looked pale. "{What are we going to do?}"

_I'm gonna kill Peterson. Slowly._ "{You really don't have any other orders?}" Dumbly, Hana shook her head. "{OK.}" It was anything but. "{Then I guess we're gonna finish what we started.}"

"{How?}"

Eric smiled, hoping the expression looked reassuring. "{For now, we keep up what we've been doing. As far as Soong believes, we are what we say we are.}" Hana nodded slowly. "{You've got fight training?}"

"{A little.}"

"{OK. We can string today's negotiations out. Soong is still after me to be his broker.}" Hana nodded again. "{Then tonight, we'll put to use what we've learned about this place.}"

Hana looked doubtful. "{We will?}"

"{Hitting things would be my day job,}" Eric answered. "{Trust me.}"

~*~

Chung-Hee knocked on the door just after seven thirty. Somewhat to Eric's surprise, though the greeting was pleasant enough, there was something in it that suggested all was not as well as it had been.

"Mr Kim requests your presence," Chung-Hee stated. "He has a matter of grave importance to discuss."

Eric and Hana exchanged looks. He nodded.

"We would be honoured," Hana answered.

"{Lead the way,}" Eric said.

It was Hana's turn to nod. She opened the door to find a grim-faced Chung-Hee waiting.

"This way, please." With none of the obsequious courtesy of the previous days, Chung-Hee set off briskly.

Offered little choice, Eric and Hana followed. Eric's every last scrap of intuition warned him this was a potential trap. He was alert and ready for anything. He just hoped Hana had drawn the same conclusions.

Eric wasn't surprised to find they weren't led into the courtyard garden, or any of the other areas of the house they'd so far seen. Instead, they were led into a Spartan detention room, where an equally grim-faced Soong was waiting, as were the two 'help' Eric had noted on their first arrival at the compound, and as was someone wearing an olive-drab jumpsuit and cammo cream. The someone was chained up, spread-eagle fashion, with the two 'help' stood one either side.

"Greetings, Mr Chen," said Soong as soon as he spotted Eric's arrival. "As you can see, it seems we were paid a visit by some...little mice during the night. Regrettably, most of them escaped, but my men were able to detain this one."

_Guess we know what happened to the commandos, then,_ Eric mused. _Does Soong suspect Hana and me?_

"I was wondering," Soong continued, "if you might lend me your not inconsiderable talents."

_I guess I'll take that as a no._

"He is refusing to tell us who sent him and his men," Soong concluded. "I would prefer not to use the tmazacol on him. With the drug in the final phase of development and testing, I do only have a limited supply." Soong looked less than pleased at informing a buyer of this fact. "Production is scheduled to begin on Friday."

"{Tell him,}" said Eric, looking at Hana, "{that I would be delighted to assist him with this matter.}"

He saw her eyes widen just fractionally at that, though she translated the statement.

"I thank you," said Soong, bowing. "You will permit me to observe?"

Eric smiled, predatorily, even as he was thinking, _I'd sooner you fucked off for breakfast._ "{I expected no less.}"

Hana translated and Soong smiled. She then said, "{What are you planning?}"

_Hope like hell this is someone I don't know,_ Eric thought. "{Extract information.}" It was a vague statement, but he didn't dare risk anything else. He wasn't entirely convinced Soong didn't at least speak some Cantonese and on that basis... "{This is what I do best.}"

Slowly and deliberately, he removed his suit jacket -- folding it and handing it to Hana once he'd removed it -- and fastidiously rolled up his shirt sleeves. Part of it was purely practical -- to do anything along these lines he needed the freedom of movement. Part of it was for show. The rest of it was to buy him some time. If it had been Wes, he could have faked a beating with no trouble. He and Wes had a sync to their thought processes -- particularly under pressure and against the odds. But this wasn't going to be Wes. This was probably some poor sap who hadn't got a clue that they were on the same side.

Slowly, Eric walked up to the prisoner, taking in details. The man was tall -- legitimately so, to judge by the way he over-topped the two help -- and willowy. There was something about the build he thought he ought to recognise, but with the cammo cream effectively obscuring any distinguishing features on the prisoner's face, he couldn't place it. 

"{The help can go,}" Eric stated, as he reached touching distance of the prisoner. "{The captive is not going to be going anywhere.}"

Hana translated. Soong barked something sharp in Korean and the two help, looking mutinous, walked away.

"You have one last chance," Soong stated. "Tell me who sent you."

"No dice," the prisoner responded.

Eric was grateful that Soong was behind him. It meant that the Korean didn't see the brief look of surprise that crossed his face.

_"Frank, what the fuck are you doing here?!"_ Eric mouthed.

Obviously mindful of the fact that Soong was probably watching like a hawk, Peterson gave a miniscule shrug. _"You're in charge."_

"What the fuck?!" 

_"Do what you do best,"_ Peterson responded.

Slowly, methodically, Eric removed the shades that had become a stock feature of his outfit and snapped his fingers. "{Ming!}" He needed to get Hana in on this before she thought he was a complete sadist.

Smartly, Hana stepped up and took the sunglasses as Eric held them out. "{Will that be all, husband?}"

"{Yes. All will be well. Trust.}" He met Hana's gaze. He flicked his gaze to Peterson and back. _"Be OK."_

She gave a slight nod and stepped back.

Eric just hoped she'd got the message. He transferred his attention to Peterson. _"This has gotta hurt -- sorry."_

There was another fractional shrug. Peterson had probably figured that for himself. _Well, you wanted to knock the shit out of him,_ Eric mused. _At least this way, he can't throw you in the brig for it._

With that thought, he lashed out with his foot, snapping Peterson's knee like it was matchwood. Peterson screamed. Eric heard Soong and Hana both gasp behind him. _Good. If Soong's shocked, he's not gonna be paying attention._ The way Peterson had been chained meant that every flinch would send pain through the injured knee -- something Eric's time as bel Abis' captive had taught him -- so even if the next blows didn't land, so long as Peterson reacted, there would be a real grimace of pain on Peterson's face. Eric essayed a punch that came nowhere near landing. Peterson did flinch -- then grimaced. Perfect. The next series of blows were all pulled. They looked vicious, but none of them came anywhere close to landing. Peterson reacted as if they had.

Eric moved back a pace and twisted into a kick that, if it was at full power, could have taken off Peterson's head. As it was, it connected -- it had to -- but with the older man's shoulder, and with barely half power. Enough to maintain the charade but not enough to injure. Another set of pulled punches followed up, bringing Eric back in close.

"Taylor's coming tonight," Peterson hissed through clenched teeth. "Nineteen hundred."

_"Gotcha."_ Eric stepped back again. _"Gotta land one more for real."_

Peterson gave a near imperceptible nod and Eric buried his fist in the older man's solar plexus, forcing the air from Peterson's lungs with a loud _wuff_ noise. 

_"Bullshit him,"_ Eric mouthed as he stepped back.

_"Yes, sir,"_ Peterson mouthed back.

_Sir?_ Eric blinked. Peterson really **had** just put him in charge. _Is that so it's my ass that gets fried?_ He snapped his fingers, the held his hand out. Hana stepped forward and put the sunglasses into his hand. He put them on, then turned to face his audience. Soong was nodding. Chung-Hee, who'd obviously stayed to watch the 'sport', was frowning. _Uh-oh. Someone smells rat._

"{He'll talk now,}" Eric stated.

Hana translated. She looked pale, though her voice was steady enough.

"Excellent -- I thank you, Mr Chen. Chung-Hee, would you please show our guests to the courtyard for breakfast -- I am sure Mr Chen has worked up an appetite."

"I'm sure," Chung-Hee agreed, smiling falsely.

_Yep, big fat rat._ Eric made a show of pulling on his suit jacket. "{Breakfast would be a pleasure,}" he stated, meeting Chung-Hee's gaze. "{Vigorous exercise always makes me hungry.}"

Hana looked ever so slightly nauseated as she translated Eric's remarks.

Chung-Hee smiled again. "Of course. This way." He ushered Hana through the door but as Eric moved to follow, he blocked his path. "You're good, whoever you are, but you're not that good. You didn't touch him."

"{Didn't I?}" Eric retorted, glowering at the Korean and making use of his additional height to successfully loom over the other man. 

"Chung-Hee!" Soong sounded scandalised. "How dare you insult our honourable guest like that."

"The prisoner has no mark on him. It was all smoke and mirrors."

"{Ming! Tell this imbecile that if he wishes I will demonstrate my 'smoke and mirrors' on him next!}" Eric snapped.

Hana, who had returned the second she realised something was up, translated.

Chung-Hee drew himself up to his full height in a gesture that, had Eric seen it anywhere else, would have been utterly comical. As it was, it was no laughing matter. "You could not touch me."

"{Because you could not keep up,}" Eric shot back. "{And if the prisoner truly has no mark on him, ask him to put his weight on his right knee.}"

Hana translated. Soong, who had been watching the back-and-forth turned to the prisoner and requested just that. Eric didn't need to turn to watch. Peterson's right knee was completely blown and it wouldn't be supporting the older man's weight for some time to come. The answering groan/scream from Peterson turned Chung-Hee's face white.

"But...I..."

"Mr Chen," said Soong, "if you feel the need for a little...non-terminal practice...?"

Barely had permission been granted than Eric lashed out with a stiff fingered blow to the throat at roughly half power -- enough to make breathing difficult, not enough to crush Chung-Hee's windpipe -- and followed up by a hard kick to the Korean's knee, not **quite** blowing the joint out in the way he'd done for Peterson's, but certainly curtailing Chung-Hee's ease of movement.

"{Smoke and mirrors. Ha!}" Eric snorted. Chung-Hee looked livid. The expression clearly said 'I will get even for that'. Eric smiled, predatorily. Chung-Hee blanched despite himself. "{I believe breakfast is now in order, if my honourable host agrees?}" Eric finished.

Hana translated the breakfast remark -- not bothering with the taunt. Chung-Hee had clearly understood the meaning if not the literal words.

Soong nodded. "I think, perhaps, I will show you to the courtyard myself. This sort of encouragement is better left a little while to sink in."

Eric inclined his head and gladly followed Soong out of the detention room, Hana practically clinging to him. _That was too close._

~*~

Taylor looked at the commando leader. "He said he was going to do **what**?!" she finally managed.

The commando shrugged as best he could for the Kevlar body armour. "Ma'am -- I'm just telling you what he told me."

_What the fuck did Peterson go and do that for?_ Taylor wondered. _He's a freaking desk jockey!_ Unless... _Oh crap...he's not trying to prove some sort of machismo thing..._ Taylor grimaced. _Me and my big mouth. "If you were any sort of father it wouldn't be Eric in there." -- nice going, Taylor. Really nice going._

"What time did he say he wanted the air strike?" Taylor asked, trying to swallow back her anger. Anger directed at Peterson was wasted, while the self-ire was counter-productive right now.

"Nineteen hundred hours."

Taylor consulted with her watch. Ten o'clock. Flying time up to Soong's compound was half an hour. Give it forty-five minutes to be on the safe side. She'd need to be prep'd and ready by eighteen hundred. And God knew, Hawke-The-Immaculate-Pre-Flight had drummed pre-flight checks into her, which left her starting to prep at sixteen hundred.

Six hours, then.

"OK. Nineteen hundred it is. You boys got your ride?"

The commando nodded. "Yes ma'am."

"Then I guess I'll see you Stateside." The commando nodded, started to salute, hesitated then saluted anyway and departed. Taylor waited until he was out of sight to grin.

Six hours.

Time to catch some rack time -- and hope like hell that Peterson remembered to let Eric in on this plan. She'd not had any friendly fire incidents so far, and she didn't plan on making Eric her first.

~*~

Largely as a result of Soong's preoccupation with his prisoner, the negotiations eased off -- which suited Eric nicely. Most of his mind was taken up with planning. From what Taylor had told him about the chopper, it could come in hotter than hell. Knowing the pilot, it **would** come in all guns blazing. That meant he, Hana and Peterson needed to be somewhere out of the firing line.

He also wanted, if at all possible, to make sure that the poor saps Soong had turned into lab rats were either rescued or put out of their misery, though he wasn't sure which of the two options would be the bigger mercy.

The trick was going to be not tipping their hand too early.

That, and letting Hana and Peterson know what the plan was.

It was going to be a challenge -- but it was doable. It would have to be.

~*~

Kimberly lay in bed, cuddling the pillow once more. Jen's talk had done wonders as far as her mood was concerned and she felt far more positive -- though still worried -- and at least in theory, she ought to be able to get some proper sleep tonight.

In theory.

She winced as the baby kicked yet again.

"Mommy's trying to sleep," she muttered. "Think you could too?"

The only response was another kick.

Kimberly sighed. Looked like another long night. _Please come home soon, Eric..._

~*~

Taylor woke at the sound of her watch alarm bleeping. Sixteen hundred.

_OK, rise and shine, fly-girl._ Stiffly, she got up out of the pilot's seat, where she'd gone to sleep, and moved towards the aft cabin. _Sure hope the commandos left me some coffee._

Even as she found the flask and poured out what was left -- which wasn't much and was decidedly tepid -- she started plotting through the mission details. She knew the compound layout, having flown recon over it they day before, and she had a pretty fair idea, on that basis, of where Eric was likely to be.

So wherever she hit first, it needed to be well away from there.

Sipping the coffee -- and grimacing at the taste, which was somewhere between motor oil and sump sludge -- Taylor sat down at the TAC station and punched up the recon recordings. "OK, lessee if we can find a nice, big, fat juicy distraction..."

~*~

_Thank God for needing to 'dress' for dinner,_ Eric found himself thinking as he and Hana entered their room. It was nearly six o'clock in the evening, which was getting dangerously close to Taylor's arrival.

Before he could say a word, Hana rounded on him. "{How could you do that this morning!}"

"{Do you mean to Chung-Hee or to Peterson?}" Eric replied discarding the shades gratefully.

"{Both.}"

"{To Peterson, I didn't do as much as you're supposed to think -- Chung-Hee was right about that.}" Hana's eyes widened. "{I told you, my day job is hitting things -- and I've been doing it a very long time. Smoke and mirrors.}" Hana's eyes were almost saucer size now. "{As for Chung-Hee, Soong had given me permission -- and I needed to do something to give him something else to think about.}"

"{You've made an enemy.}"

Eric smiled wryly. "{Not the first time.}" He toed off his shoes and started to remove his socks. "{We leave in an hour.}"

"{What?!}"

Eric motioned to the bed. Hana sat. "{Taylor's coming at nineteen hundred. You need to find Peterson, free him and find a way out of here.}"

"{A way out?}" Hana echoed. "{What do you mean?}"

"{You and Peterson need to be out of the firing zone by nineteen hundred.}" Eric padded bare-foot across to their bag and rummaged through it until he found a t-shirt -- thankfully a black one -- and started to strip off the button down he was wearing. "{And that means you guys need to be off the estate completely. I don't know where or what Taylor's gonna pick up as a target.}"

"{What about you? And what are you doing?}" Hana asked.

"{Have you ever tried sneaking around in a white shirt in the dark?}" Eric asked, somewhat rhetorically. He pulled the t-shirt on over. "{As for me,}" he continued, tucking his gun into the waistband of his pants at the small of his back, "{there're the labs underneath this place and Soong to take care of.}"

"{On your own?!}"

Eric smiled. "{Probably not completely on my own.}"

Hana lifted her eyebrows. "{One of the people in the trials?.}"

Eric nodded. "{Our friend George,}" he said.

"{You think he's going to help you after...}"

Eric's mouth compressed into a thin line. That had crossed his mind. "{Have to try.}" He looked at his watch. Six o'clock. Dead on. "{OK. You know what you're doing?}" Hana nodded. She didn't look over thrilled with it, but she understood. "{You've got an hour -- don't worry about me. Just make sure you and Peterson are off this estate.}"

"{Got it.}" She stood up and headed for the door. "{Good luck.}"

"{You too.}"

Then she was gone. Eric mentally crossed his fingers that she could do what she needed to. He counted ten, giving her a chance to get well away from the room, then slipped out of the room himself. Time to go to work.

~*~

Taylor's watch bleeped again, indicating the hour. Eighteen hundred. All systems were checked out, the course was plotted, the weaponry was primed and ready. 

Taylor drew in a breath and let it out, slowly. 

Time to go.

She settled into the right seat and flipped the ignition switches down in sequence. With a low, throaty growl, the first turbine cut in. The growl became a whine as turbine two cut in. Rotor speed came up and gently, Taylor eased the craft off the ground.

Fifty feet. A hundred. A hundred and fifty feet and she was just clear of the tree line. _Stay low -- no sense in attracting attention._ She reached two hundred feet and hovered a moment, then smoothly sent Airwolf forwards. _The cavalry is on its way._

* * *

_TO BE CONTINUED..._


	7. Seven

Disclaimer: See part 1 -- nothing's changed

With thanks to Gamine and Nessa for patiently picking out the nits. Also thanks to Kahva just because.

Please offer feedback, it tells me how I'm doing

And you guys thought the last one was evil...

~*~

Peterson balanced on his good leg as best he could, but the way he was chained up meant that was a nearly impossible challenge. He wished Eric had opted to break something else. Something slightly less important. _Not like he had too much choice._ He snorted softly. His internal clock told him that it was probably somewhere around six o'clock in the evening.

He wasn't sure what Eric was going to have come up with, but whatever it was, it had to start soon.

_Unless Eric's decided he's going to leave me here to rot...which is probably about what I deserve._

Light, and suspiciously feminine footsteps approached the holding cell. A moment later and the elegant form of Hana slipped into the room, moving swiftly and surely from shadow to shadow.

"Time to go," she whispered as she reached him.

"I hope you've got a lock pick on you," Peterson answered softly, "otherwise I'm not going anywhere."

Hana chuckled dryly. "I have something better." With a slight rattle, she produced a set of keys. "I lifted them from the 'help' this morning."

"Sneaky," Peterson approved as he felt her free his left ankle. "What's Eric doing?"

"Going after Soong," Hana answered, her voice muffled by the fact that she was bending to release his right ankle. "How bad's your knee?"

"Shot," he admitted. "He's gone after Soong? On his own?"

Hana straightened and unlocked his left wrist. "It's personal." She paused, meeting his gaze. "Something to do with Kosovo."

Peterson hadn't thought it was possible to feel any worse about an operation. He now realised he was wrong. _Oh shit._

Hana, meantime, finished releasing him. "C'mon. Kick yourself later -- we've gotta get outta here."

"Quite to the contrary, my dear," stated a new voice. "You are not going to be going...anywhere."

~*~

Silently, Eric crept through the lab complex. The whole complex was obviously into their night time routine, to judge by the dimmed lighting and the complete lack of staff. That suited him perfectly. He bypassed the door into the cell gallery. What he needed was a way into the cells themselves. A little further on, he found a likely looking door. _Let's see what's behind door number one._ He listened for a second and judged there was no-one immediately behind it. Quietly, he pushed it open a fraction -- enough for him to get a sense of what lay beyond without alerting anyone who was in the room or...on the stairs.

Eric smiled faintly to himself as he slipped into the stairwell. The bare concrete stairs led only one way: Down. This **had** to be the way into the cells. It very clearly **wasn't** somewhere Soong went -- otherwise it would have been painted, and probably tiled. This was somewhere the minions went. The underlings. _The lab rats._ Eric's faint smile thinned into a grimace as he descended the stairs. _Lab rats no more._

At the bottom of the stairs, which descended two flights -- a distance Eric guessed probably took him to the floor level of the cells or thereabouts -- he found another door. Again, he listened before easing it open a crack. Another hallway -- this one a virtual negative of the one at the top of the stairs. Grimy, unpainted walls, bare cement floor...

He stepped out into the hallway and was faced with a 'nurse's' station, unmanned -- after all, who cared about the prisoners; it wasn't as if they could escape -- and unsecured. He could see the electronic lock controls blinking on the switch panel behind the desk.

Eric nodded to himself. _Let's find door number two..._ There was a sheet of paper on the desk with cell assignments written on it -- and mercifully enough -- written in English. He scanned the list, twice before he finally spotted the name 'Borgh' scrawled in classic doctor chicken scratch. _Cell five b. OK...five b..._ Eric turned to the switch panel and released the lock on five b, then jogged along the hallway in the direction of the faint 'click' of the lock releasing.

There was a risk there was someone up on the catwalk as he opened the cell door, but that was a risk he was going to have to take. Time was running out. He stepped into the cell and found himself being pounced on by 'George'. They both crashed to the ground, 'George' obviously intending to make a break for it.

There was a moment as their eyes met. 

"What the...?!" 'George' began, the fight leaving him completely.

"Long story," Eric answered.

'George' blinked a couple of times as he rolled off Eric, allowing him to sit up. "You're...you're that guy -- from the other day." A frown crossed 'George's' face. "Wait...aren't you supposed to be Chinese or something?"

"Or something," Eric agreed.

"What the hell's going on?"

"Mr Kim's going out of business," Eric answered.

A knowing look crossed 'George's' face. "You're working for Frank Peterson."

"And your name isn't George Borgh," Eric retorted, getting to his feet. "There'll be time for proper explanations later. Provided we can get out of here before the air strike comes down." He offered 'George' a hand up. "You in?"

"If you're Peterson's, I'm in," 'George' answered, nodding. "What do you need me to do?"

~*~

Kimberly shifted, uncomfortably. The baby didn't seem to want to settle down at all this evening. The thought crossed her mind that there was something wrong -- that the stress of the last five and a half days had harmed the baby somehow -- but it didn't **feel** wrong. _Just feels like he's decided to practice half a dozen katas,_ she mused wryly. _Honey, please settle down..._

She cuddled the pillow closer.

This really **was** going to be a long night.

~*~

Eric was still semi-convinced 'George' was liable to slug him a good one when he got a suitable opportunity, but for the time being, they had a truce. 'George' was freeing the other prisoners and was going to do his best to get them out of the compound, which left Eric free to track down Soong.

Quietly, he padded down dim and oddly empty hallways searching for Soong. Each room he checked was empty; most of them were bedrooms, so that wasn't too surprising. And yet, the longer he went without seeing another human being, though, made Eric nervous. Something wasn't right.

He glanced at his watch. Fifteen minutes before Taylor was due to show up. 

Where the hell was everyone?

Up ahead, Eric saw the bright lights of a well lit room. Automatically flattening himself against a wall, he inched towards the open doorway. Voices floated out of the room.

"I must admit," said one that Eric identified as belonging to Soong, "I was impressed with your little charade, my dear. And Mr Myers is quite the actor -- he was almost believable."

Eric froze. _Fuck._

"But," Soong was continuing, "there was just one fly in the ointment, at least as far as your plans were concerned."

"He's got a very unforgettable face," stated a new voice, one that Eric half thought he ought to recognise. "Particularly when he's shoving it where it's not wanted."

"That's enough, Dr Mendez," said Soong warningly. 

_Oh shit._ Eric closed his eyes. _I should have known._ Javier Mendez. Ex-employee of Biolab. Michael Zaskin's predecessor. A man Mr Collins had sacked for incompetence...at Eric's say so.

~*~

There was the Soong compound, Taylor noted. Just coming up. TAC squawked and the computer reported that something had 'painted' her with a targeting radar. _Oh why am I not surprised this isn't gonna be a straight forward shoot'n'loot?_ All the same, a smile crept across her face. _Ah well -- shoot'n'loots are boring..._

A warning went off, indicating target lock had been achieved.

_All right -- you wanna play? Let's play..._

~*~

Eric inched closer to the room, wondering how the hell he was gonna be able to do anything about this. He was betting that also in the room was, at the least, Hana. Probably Peterson too. Soong had at least got Mendez with him. Probably the two 'help' as well. _OK, let's cut down what I don't know..._He reached the doorway.

Flattening himself even tighter to the wall, Eric looked into the room. All that was immediately visible was a small section of the room to the right of the door. That was completely empty of people -- fortunately. In fact, all it contained was a large, wooden sideboard. _If this was the movies,_ Eric mused, _there'd be a mirror over that thing. No such luck._ What his view of the room did tell him was that the occupants of the room were on the other side of the room.

Did he risk moving across the doorway to get a better look?

"I am a little surprised," Soong was saying, "that he hasn't yet joined this little party. I thought he was nothing if not intelligent."

"Perhaps he's too intelligent to fall for this," Hana snapped, firmly confirming to Eric she was present.

_Peterson **has** to be here too, unless Soong's already killed him._ Eric found he was oddly upset by that thought. Dismissing it as irrelevant for the time being, he wondered what the best plan of attack was._ Sometimes,_ he finally decided, _full frontal is about the only way to go...and I do have one thing on my side._ Reaching round, Eric drew the gun. He'd just have to make sure it counted for something while he still had surprise on his side too.

~*~

Taylor kicked in Airwolf's turbo jets and the helicopter roared out of range of the ground weaponry. _Chew on that._ She could practically hear the crew on the ground doing a collective 'what the hell'. She smiled and looped back round, accelerating towards the speed of sound right back at the weapons emplacement.

The warning of radar lock blatted again.

Taylor smiled and squeezed the trigger, firing off a HARM missile straight back down the radar signal, then pulled back on the collective, pulling Airwolf up in a steep climb, even as the missile exploded.

Oh yeah. Definitely something to chew on.

~*~

Eric heard the whine/growl, just before he heard the concussive blast of a missile exploding. A moment later and some of the windows in the building rattled. Blast was over a mile away, then, he guessed.

From the room, he heard Mendez yelp, "What the fuck was that?"

Eric knew a cue when he heard one. "That would be the signal that time's up." Moving fast, he entered the room, levelling the gun in the direction of Mendez' voice. He fired once, hitting the doctor in the right shoulder -- not as accurate as he'd have liked but certainly debilitating enough to take Mendez out of the game for now. That one shot bought him the time to look around the rest of the room and see who else was there.

It was a sitting room. Soong was seated on an easy chair, the two 'help' standing guard either side of him. Hana was on a two seat sofa, just to Mendez's right. _Don't think about how close you came to hitting her..._ Peterson was sprawled on the floor, probably unconscious. No sign of Chung-Hee.

"Quite the avenging angel, Mr Myers," Soong applauded, even as Eric brought his gun in to aim at Soong's head. "But surely you're not going to just shoot me?"

"Evil Overlord rules," Eric retorted, firing. "Shooting is not too good for my enemies." That shot was dead on target, hitting Soong between the eyes. The Korean slumped back in his seat, just a neat red hole in his forehead the only giveaway that he was emphatically dead. "And Christ knows there's nothing about you worth hanging on to."

The two 'help' exchanged looks.

"What the fuck are you two waiting for?!" Mendez screamed, clutching his shoulder. "Kill that bastard!"

"Better still," Eric answered, firing off another two rounds, "don't." The two rounds were hastily aimed. Neither shot was on target, and both served to just enrage the two thugs.

One of them pulled a revolver out and took aim.

"Oh this was **not** a good idea..." Eric dived as a bullet ripped through where his head had been seconds before. He rolled to his feet and fired again, hitting the one with the gun in his gun hand. That took care of **that** little problem, but both thugs were still on their feet and breathing, and one -- the one who hadn't pulled the gun -- was getting closer to him. Eric fired again, this time centre-mass, going for something that would put the thug down in a hurry. The shot was on target, but the thug just grinned.

_Oh **fuck**!_ Kevlar. Well shit.

And then the thug was on him.

~*~

Taylor brought Airwolf round for a second pass, though she wasn't expecting that radar source to still be in operation -- and it wasn't -- though she could pick up the IR signal from the burning wreckage. _That'll put a crimp in your style._

Throttling back, she came round to pull a proper scan of Soong's compound, looking for any more 'surprises' -- and found some. Another two AC emplacements, nearer the house, that had definitely not been there when they'd done the recon. _Damn someone's gotten paranoid in the last two days._ One of the emplacements attempted a radar lock.

_Stupid bastard._ Taylor fired another HARM. Another emplacement went up with a whumpf. The other AC emplacement showed a sudden and rapid depowering. _Smart guy. Too bad for him I'm not dumb enough to leave him operational._ As she came back round on a third pass of the compound, she fired a bullpup at the location Airwolf's computer had logged the third emplacement. The third emplacement exploded.

~*~

Tossing the pistol aside as useless if the two thugs were wearing Kevlar -- and from the grins, they both were -- Eric dived forwards, neatly avoiding the lunge of the closer thug.

"All right boys -- you wanna dance?"

There was a moment when nothing happened, then Hana screamed, "Eric get down!"

Used to obeying commands of that sort without argument, Eric dropped to the ground just as a huge explosion rocked the house, closely followed by a second. The glass in the wide, patio-style doors blew inwards. _Holy shit..._As the tinkle of glass died away, Eric rolled to his feet, wincing as some of the shards dug into them, hoping he was reacting faster than the thugs. Thug number one -- the one who'd already been shot in the hand -- wasn't moving, though Eric knew it was too much to hope for that the Korean had taken a piece of glass somewhere vital. Thug number two was just getting to his feet.

Eric launched himself at the thug, driving the shorter man back to the ground. _Time to make your size count -- for once!_ Wrapping his arms around the shorter man's neck, he applied pressure and started to choke him out. The thug fought back, but Eric had all the leverage advantage. The struggles got progressively weaker until Eric felt the man's body go lax in unconsciousness. Then with a twist, Eric broke his neck. _One down..._

~*~

Bringing Airwolf round in a wide sweep of the compound, Taylor looked for targets that she could hit safely. The main building was a nice, fat target, but that was almost certainly where Eric was. 

Another warning tone sounded, indicating that a missile had been launched from the ground. _Heat seeker SAM._ That was easily dealt with. Even as she put Airwolf through a complex pattern of evasive manoeuvres, she brought up a sunburst and fired it.

The bright magnesium flare lit up the rapidly darkening sky like day and the heat seeking missile homed in on it, just as it was supposed to. As Taylor pulled up, the missile exploded at the flare.

_Now does one of you dumb sons of bitches wanna try your luck again?_

~*~

Another explosion, airborne this time from the sound of it, echoed through the night as Eric turned his attention to the remaining thug, who still hadn't moved. Cautiously, he moved over to the thug, well aware of the possibility the Korean was playing possum.

Not cautiously enough as a hand snaked out, grabbed an ankle and pulled. Eric found himself falling. As he landed, the thug was onto him, throwing wild punches. Most of them were so wild as to miss altogether, but a couple landed sending pain through Eric's jaw. _This is really not what I had planned for my Monday night..._Mustering a burst of energy, he surged up, throwing the thug off. Before the other man could recover, Eric had grabbed him in another sleeper hold.

"Say good night."

The thug fought the hold -- possibly more so than his colleague, probably guessing what was going to happen next -- but grimly Eric clung on. He couldn't afford to do anything else. When the body finally went limp, he completed the job and broke the man's neck.

Then he turned his attention to Martinez, who was clutching his shoulder and looking pale. In large measure because Hana had produced a gun and was holding it against his temple.

"You were right," she said. "They didn't find it."

Eric smiled faintly. "How's Peterson?"

"Got a headache to rival the last time some bastard hit me over the head with a baseball bat," Peterson replied himself with a groan.

"That happen often, then?" Eric asked.

"More often than I'd like."

Eric shook his head and climbed to his feet. "C'mon -- I'm thinking Ejector Earhardt is itching to put a missile through this place."

"I'll just bet she loves that you know about that one," Peterson retorted.

"If you'd done all your homework on that one," Eric retorted, retrieving his gun, "you'd know I was somewhat involved in it."

"I don't wanna know," said Hana. 

But if she had anything else to say, it was drowned out well and truly by the sounds of the big attack helicopter landing. That probably meant things were over. Taylor climbed out of the chopper, obviously looking fairly pleased with herself.

Eric watched her move across the grass. The sense that something still wasn't entirely right was still with him. Which meant either his intuition was doing overtime -- or...

He started forwards, yelling, "Taylor, down!" But the warning was just fractionally too late. Chung-Hee had appeared wraithlike from the bushes and had grabbed the blonde by the throat.

"Don't come any closer!" he yelled. "Or I might just have to...kill her."

* * *

_TO BE CONTINUED..._


	8. Eight

Disclaimer: See part 1 -- nothing's changed!

With grateful thanks to Gamine for patiently picking out the nits, Cmar for making my formatting easier (!!) and to Kahva just because.

Many apologies over the length of time you've been hanging; a mini case of writer's block struck roughly fifteen paragraphs from the end.

~*~

Chung-Hee's threat hung on the air for several moments. Everyone froze. Taylor looked as if she'd like to fight back, but the way Chung-Hee had her by the throat with one hand while the other most effectively pinioned her arms prevented that.

"You're a walking cliché," Eric muttered sotto voce.

"Good -- real good." Chung-Hee started to force Taylor backwards, towards the chopper. "Now put the gun down."

Slowly, Eric bent to set the gun down, sizing up the distance. There was no way he could cross the distance before Chung-Hee could make good the threat. He couldn't... But there was something that could.

In one, fluid move, Eric straightened, drawing the hidden knife from its sheath and throwing it straight at the Korean's head. It lodged in the Korean's throat, a look of complete and utter astonishment forever frozen on his face.

**Now** it was over.

~*~

The wrap up took most of the night. Mendez needed medical treatment -- Peterson was insistent that the Hispanic doctor was going to come back to the US to face treason charges -- as did Peterson. Someone -- Taylor, Eric thought later, though he wasn't entirely clear as most of the night merged into one long blur of adrenaline 'come down' -- asked him why he'd broken Peterson's knee. 

_"Two reasons," _he had answered. _"Firstly because I needed one injury that was demonstrable -- in case they didn't buy the rest of it. Secondly, because it's a hell of a lot easier to stand like Frank'd been chained if you've got a damaged leg than it is with a damaged arm." _Whoever it was had asked for clarification of the second. All Eric had said was, _"Personal experience."_ The speaker had left it at that.

Then there was the medical complex beneath the house that needed to be gone through. Peterson would have a team in first thing the following day to really take the place apart, but he needed a first look. And that was when they found the first of the bodies. It seemed as if some of Peterson's worst fears about tmazacol -- that it was ultimately lethal -- were true. And from the look of some of the bodies, from a part of the facility that Chung-Hee had very carefully not shown to Eric, it had been a messy and gruesome death.

_Maybe Peterson was right to want this shut down before it got out,_ Eric found himself thinking, though there was no way in hell he was ever going to tell Peterson that!

The other prisoners, led by 'George', materialised from the jungle somewhere around three o'clock in the morning, presumably deciding it was now safe. Peterson greeted 'George' with: "Paul -- damn good to see you in one piece."

'George' -- Paul's response had been, to Eric's tired mind, somewhat amusingly wry. _"Yeah -- one piece apart from the bruises."_

There had been formal introductions at that point -- and then things really started to blur. It dimly dawned on Eric he was well into his third day without sleep -- and that probably explained a few things. Then came an even dimmer realisation that someone was gently forcing him to lie down on one of the unused beds in the house. He didn't put up too much of a fight -- even suspecting nightmares would probably wreck it, sleep was just too inviting.

~*~

Kimberly had just covered hands, pastry board and rolling pin with flour when the phone rang. _Someone's timing really, **really** stinks,_ she groused.

"Alice -- can you answer the phone for me?" she called, starting to rinse off her hands.

"'Kay!" Alice answered.

There was a scurry as Kimberly dried off her hands and the ringing cut, closely followed by Alice carefully saying, "Myers house, who's calling please?" There was a pause. Then, "Mom!"

"I'm coming," Kimberly answered, heading towards the phone. Alice looked excited. "Who is it, sweetheart?"

"Taylor," she answered. "She says it's about dad!"

Small wonder Alice looked excited. Kimberly suddenly found herself terrified. Why was Taylor calling about Eric? Why wasn't Eric calling about Eric? What if...

"Kim?" Taylor's voice was something of a surprise. Obviously somewhere between reaching Alice and starting to panic she'd taken the receiver and put it to her ear, but she had no memory of that.

"Yes -- what..." But Kimberly suddenly found she couldn't speak.

Taylor, for her part gave a sympathetic chuckle. "To answer your questions in reverse order..." Damn, she'd panicked aloud? A glance at Alice, who was standing beside her hopping from foot to foot in excitement, told her she hadn't, which meant Taylor was guessing. "'What if' didn't happen. Eric's not calling because he's currently out like a light -- I don't entirely follow the whys of that one, but Hana said something about him not sleeping properly the whole time he's been here and last night was a hell of a fight so... The reason I am calling, though, is to tell you he's safe, sound and aside from some cuts and bruises completely in one piece." Taylor paused. "Hana seemed to think you'd find that significant."

"It's what he promised," said Kimberly softly. "Everything's over?"

"He'll be home in the next forty-eight hours," Taylor promised.

He was coming home! Kimberly realised she was crying.

"Mommy?" Alice looked alarmed. "What's wrong?"

"Kim -- y'ok?" Taylor asked.

"Yeah." Kimberly swallowed. "Yeah -- I will be. I'm just...relieved." To Alice, she said, "Nothing's wrong, honey."

Taylor chuckled. "I'll leave you to explain to Alice."

"Thanks -- thank you, Taylor."

"Any time, Kim. Oh, one other thing," she added. "You might be pleased to know your husband put Peterson on crutches."

That raised a laugh from Kimberly. "I'll have to ask him when I see him."

"Do -- it's quite a story; though I only got it semi-incoherently."

With that, Taylor hung up.

"Mommy?" asked Alice. "If nothing's wrong, why are you crying?"

Kimberly smiled at her daughter. "Sometimes," she said, "when people are really, **really** happy, they cry."

"And you're really, really happy?"

Kimberly nodded. "Daddy's gonna be home for Christmas."

Alice's answering whoop of delight told the whole story.

~*~

It was early afternoon before Eric finally woke from a surprisingly dreamless sleep. _Must have been more wiped than I figured,_ he realised. Then he tried to move. _Damn! That hurts._

"Easy," said a voice. "You've got a lot of cuts on your back and on the soles of your feet."

Eric blinked and found himself looking up at 'George'. _No, wait, Paul._ "Broken glass'll do that to you." He swallowed. "Is this the point where you slug me for..."

Paul shook his head and smiled. "No, this is the point where I tell you no hard feelings. I was the one who screwed up and got myself into that cell. You were doing your job -- and 'fraid Hana's been telling tales."

"That figures." But somehow, Eric was relieved to know that Paul knew what the interrogation had cost him. Slowly, and wincing with every movement, he rolled over to sit up. "So what's happening today?"

"Frank's doing clear up and clear down stuff," said Paul. "The lady chopper jockey is sleeping, Hana's asleep... I think you guys are probably heading out tonight."

Eric nodded. "Sooner the better."

Paul grinned. "There's a sentiment I'm not gonna argue with."

~*~

It was nearly midnight before things were finally settled. Frank's Korean counterpart, with whom most of this operation had been arranged in the first place, had arrived to take over securing the scene and to take over custody of Mendez while extradition proceedings were taken care of. He brought with him facility for refuelling of the chopper -- Airwolf as Eric now knew it was called, and a more apt name he couldn't think of.

Eric watched the process, willing it to go faster. Now that it was all done, he just wanted to go home. Finally, Taylor signalled it was finished and she started her walk around check, making sure Airwolf was ready and safe to fly. It was.

"Everyone get their asses on board," she called, suiting action to words and climbing in herself.

Peterson, as helped by Paul, climbed in. Paul himself would be going home the following day by some other means -- Eric hadn't enquired too closely. Eric moved to follow, but Hana stopped him.

"Wha...?" But Eric found himself silenced as Hana placed a finger against his lips.

"I just wanted to say," she said softly, "that there's only one thing I wish had been different about this mission." Eric lifted his eyebrows. "That you hadn't been married." Hana smiled faintly. "Your wife's a very lucky woman, Eric. Very lucky."

It was only after she'd climbed into Airwolf's rear cabin that it dawned on Eric just what she meant.

He smiled faintly and shook his head. _And maybe in another time and place Hana would have been more than a friend._ 'What ifs' of that kind weren't something he wanted to spend time wondering about -- what was waiting for him at home was what he wanted here and now. _Time to go home._

~*~

Kimberly lay in bed. It was seven o'clock. Wes and Jen were coming over with Rick and Max so as to help out with getting the house ready for Christmas -- and for Eric's return -- and they'd be here some time after nine o'clock. She ought to get up -- and make sure Alice was up -- but she stayed where she was.

For the first time in a week, she wasn't worried about Eric. Kimberly smiled, still cuddling the pillow -- she'd finally worked out what it was about the pillow she liked so much. It was Eric's pillow. She could smell him on it. Soon she'd have him back. Properly. Somehow that seemed to be the best Christmas present she could have.

_Just five minutes more..._

~*~

Taylor watched Eric out of the corner of her eye as she piloted Airwolf across the wide expanse that was the Pacific Ocean. The only seat left in Airwolf was the co-pilot's seat, which he'd taken with a faint, wry smile.

_"You arranged that on purpose,"_ he'd said.

_"In your dreams, Jarhead,"_ she'd replied.

The truth was, though, she did want to talk to him. She just didn't know what to say. Thank you seemed somehow inadequate, given he had very literally saved her life. It had all happened so fast -- too fast for her to react. In her mind, she could see what she should have done; training that should have kicked in. She shouldn't have **needed** saving. And yet she had. And he'd done it.

"If you think any louder I'm gonna need ear plugs."

Taylor glanced fully in Eric's direction to catch the part wry part amused expression she'd seen way too many times on his face in the last year. "Knock it off -- or you'll find yourself floating home." But she didn't mean it -- and irritatingly, he seemed to know that.

All he said was, "Sure." There was a pause. "Thanks -- for speaking to Kim."

Ah. Neutral ground. "No worries. I dropped in to see her, between ferry rides -- figured Peterson had probably been economic with the truth as to what you were doing." His eyebrows lifted. "I know Peterson's methods, remember?"

"True."

"Speaking of Peterson," Taylor continued, "were you gonna tell me the guy's your dad?"

There was an audible wince. "Wasn't planning to."

"Guess you guys don't get on so good, huh?"

Eric snorted. "And understatement of the year 2003." He sighed. "It's complicated."

It was Taylor's turn to snort. "Speaking of understatements." 

"Yeah, well." There was a long moment of hesitation. "You've probably known Peterson almost as long as I have."

"Ouch." Taylor winced.

Eric seemed to be expansive mood. "Heck, for all the relationship we actually have, he probably cares more about you than me. You can fly this. Me...all I do is hit things."

"Oh, he cares," Taylor countered. "Why do you think he wound up in the compound?"

There was something of a stiff shrug. "Not a clue. It was a dumb thing to do, whatever the reason."

"You."

"Me?" Eric chuckled dryly. "Right."

"I'm serious." Taylor sighed. "I'll grant you, he's got a weird way of showing it, but I think he does care." 

"Uh-huh." 

Taylor debated whether to mention the photograph and the real sadness in Peterson's expression that she'd caught before she'd revealed her presence, but a glance at Eric suggested that information wouldn't be an entirely welcome revelation. Instead, she said, "Y'know...about Kim."

"Hm?"

"Figured I owed you one." Taylor was grateful she needed to keep most of her attention on her flight instruments because she was fairly sure Eric was now staring at her. "For...y'know."

"Oh." Was that embarrassment she could hear in his voice? "Y'know if someone had learned to obey commands when they were given instead of arguing about them it wouldn't have happened."

At that, Taylor chuckled. _You're a fraud, Eric._ "Yeah, yeah, Jarhead."

~*~

It was the smell of fresh toast and orange juice that finally woke Kimberly. For a few seconds, she thought Eric had come over all romantic and was making her breakfast in bed. Then she remembered that Eric's idea of toast tended to smell more strongly of charcoal than this -- and he wasn't back yet. Her eyes snapped open at that. Was Alice making her breakfast?

There was a gentle tap on the bedroom door, then, "Kim?"

_Jen?_ What the hell?

"Can I come in?"

"Uh, yeah -- sure." Even as she said it, Kimberly started to carefully shift in bed until she was sitting up.

Jen entered the room carrying a breakfast tray. "Fixed you some food," she said, offering a smile.

Kimberly blinked. "Um, thanks...um...?"

Jen's smile widened a little bit as she set the tray down. "Alice let us in -- she said you were asleep. We knew you hadn't been sleeping too well so we decided to let you sleep. Wes took Rick, Max and Alice to the park; I took care of some of the chores we were gonna do this morning."

"You didn't have..." Kimberly began.

Jen shook her head and gestured towards the tray. "Eat." Under Jen's gaze, Kimberly found herself obeying. "As for 'not having'," Jen continued smiling, "no, we didn't. But we have."

~*~

Eric watched the ocean flash by beneath them through the cockpit window. If he looked ahead, he could see a faint, dark smudge on the horizon. That was the West Coast, though it was still an hour away. _Nearly home._ Vaguely he wondered what time it was in Silverhills, but the assorted time zone changes made his eyes cross -- and then there was the small issue of having crossed the International Date Line. He smiled faintly as he realised he wasn't entirely sure what day it was, never mind the time!

"You know that Peterson's not gonna let you go straight home?"

"Hm?" Blinking, Eric shifted his gaze to look at Taylor. "What?"

"Debriefing and shit," said Taylor. "Gotta be done."

Eric sighed. "That figures." Then he smiled. "One thing, though."

"Oh?"

"You might wanna come with me and Hana when we collect our things."

"Oh?" Taylor repeated. "Why would I wanna do that?"

Eric chuckled. "Put it this way -- should be a little bit of fun." He thought of Naomi's parting shot. Perhaps he was glad Hana had opted not to remind the assistant that he understood English.

~*~

Kimberly felt totally -- and guiltily -- spoiled.

Jen had taken care of all her laundry, had tidied up and had done the vacuuming before she'd taken the breakfast tray up to Kimberly. Then, once Kimberly had got up, Jen and Wes had carefully bundled her up and they had taken her -- and Alice, and Rick -- out for an afternoon. They had gone up into the hills that gave Silverhills its name. Up into the snowy heights.

Alice was over the moon with the novelty of snow. Kimberly just enjoyed the time to relax.

She now looked at Jen, over a steaming cup of hot chocolate back in her own kitchen and asked the only question: "Why?"

Jen grinned. "You needed the break," she pointed out. "I'm just sorry that I couldn't have helped more."

"You didn't...don't..."

"Kim," said Jen softly. "You and Eric are as much a part of my family here as Wes, Rick and Alexander."

~*~

The landing was text book, and even if it **was** the apron at Knightsbridge, Eric was more than grateful to know that he was back in the USA.

"If you and Eric collect your things," Peterson said to Hana, as they crossed the tarmac, "then come up to my office."

_Guess that does mean we're debriefing now,_ Eric decided, grimacing, even as Hana nodded.

"Taylor," Peterson continued.

"I'm goin' with Eric, if that's OK," Taylor said before Peterson could say any more and in a tone of voice that pretty much insisted she was doing it anyway, regardless of what Peterson had to say about it. "Got something of his to give back."

Peterson smiled. "All I was going to say was can you be in my office when Hana and Eric get there, please. If you're with them, so much the better."

"Oh." Taylor shrugged. "OK."

With that, Peterson headed off in the direction of his office, crutches clacking noisily.

Hana cleared her throat. "Well," she said, "shall we collect our things?"

It was a good suggestion, and a moment or two later, the trio were entered the wardrobe department. Naomi offered them a beaming smile, and to Hana, she said, "Hana! How'd it go?"

"Fine."

_Not the word I'd have used,_ Eric mused.

"Good." Naomi glanced at Eric. "How was the hottie?"

Taylor choked.

"The 'hottie'," said Eric, smiling, "firstly understands English, and secondly is very married -- and it's not to Hana."

Taylor choked again, this time with laughter, as Naomi blanched.

"You...understood...?"

"Every word."

"Just..." Naomi paled even further. "Even...the...about..."

"Yes," said Eric unmercifully. "Particularly the comment about my 'rear view'."

"Just kill me now."

"How about," said Hana, "you go get our things?"

Naomi went, still shaking her head and muttering in embarrassment.

"That," Hana continued, "was mean."

Eric snorted. "Like you weren't expecting me to do that."

Hana grinned. "Touché."

"I now see why you said it would be fun," Taylor commented. "How the heck did that arise?"

"By the time we came here," Hana explained, "Eric was supposed to be 'in character' -- or half way in character. Speaking only Cantonese but understanding English."

"I see." Taylor chuckled. "Kim's gonna get such a kick out of this."

Hana lifted her eyebrows. "You're going to tell her?"

"Sure," said Eric. "She likes to have stuff she can tease me over."

At that moment, Naomi returned, still looking pale and carrying a small pile of clothing. "You know where the changing rooms are."

Gratefully, Eric accepted his pile of clothing. It was definitely be good to get back into his own clothes, he decided as he got changed. They mightn't be top of the range or tailor made, but they were comfortable -- and more to the point, they made him feel more like himself.

Taylor was still chuckling when he returned. Of Naomi, there was no sign.

"That looks much more like you," she commented.

"Thanks, I think," Eric replied.

From a pocket in her flight suit, she produced his wedding band and handed it over. "Figure you'd like this back now."

"Thanks." Eric slipped it back on. The weight was comforting, and it really did make him feel as if this was all over.

Hana reappeared, dressed in the business suit she'd been wearing the first time he'd met her. "Well -- next stop, Wallace's lab so that you can get rid of the latex on your hands, then Peterson's office."

"Latex?" Taylor queried as they followed Hana out of the wardrobe department. For answer, Eric held out his hands, palm up. "Ew!"

"They could hardly have me going around leaving Eric Myers' fingerprints," Eric pointed out.

"Good point." Taylor shook her head. "Looks weird, though."

Eric snorted. "Try watching it being applied."

The conversation paused at that point as the trio entered the lab. Wallace -- if that was the scientist's name -- was waiting, with a bottle of solvent.

"This will take about ten minutes," Wallace explained. "You first need to apply the solvent. It dissolves the latex, then you need to rinse your hands off -- to remove the residue. After that, a proper wash with antibacterial soap."

Eric sat down where Wallace indicated with his hands over a sink, presumably so as to avoid making a mess on the lab bench. He slipped off his wedding band -- not wanting to get latex residue on it -- and applied the solvent. _This can't possibly itch as much as applying the stuff in the first place._

He soon found out he was wrong. The solvent stank, and the sensation of the latex dissolving was far more irritating than it had been when it had dried. The only consolation was that as the time ticked down, the itching did ease off. All the same, rinsing the residue off under the tap brought a definite sense of relief.

"That," Taylor commented as Eric started to wash his hands with the soap Wallace had produced, "looked thoroughly gross."

Eric snorted. "Try it some time."

"I thought..." Wallace began.

"It's a long story," said Hana, smiling.

Wallace rolled his eyes and shook his head. "It always is." To Eric, he asked, "Done?"

Eric rinsed off the soap. "Yeah." Wallace nodded and produced a towel. "Thanks." He dried his hands and replaced his wedding band.

"We done here?" Hana asked.

"Unless you want to be guinea pigs for my latest invention," said Wallace, "I would say so."

"Think we'll pass on that, thanks." Hana grinned.

"That figures."

Hana laughed. "C'mon," she said to Eric and Taylor. "Peterson's waiting."

_Oh joy._ Eric sighed and resignedly followed Hana.

"It could be worse," Taylor commented. "At least you're in the right country now."

"I'm trying to remind myself of that," Eric answered.

Hana, oddly, just chuckled some more. A moment or two later and they arrived at Peterson's office, where Peterson was just putting down the telephone receiver.

"OK?" he enquired.

The question seemed to be generic. Hana nodded -- and that seemed enough of an answer for Peterson.

"Taylor," Peterson began, "does Airwolf have enough fuel to do a pit-stop at Silverhills Municipal Airport en route to the Lair?"

Eric blinked, slightly puzzled by the question.

Taylor nodded. "More than enough."

"Good." Peterson turned his attention firmly to Eric. "Go home."

"Pardon?"

"You heard me," said Peterson. "Go home. Any information I need before the New Year I can get from Hana. As long as you're available sometime in early January for a proper debriefing," at which, Eric found himself nodding in a slightly stunned fashion, "there's no reason for you to stay away from your family any longer. I've spoken to Ben at SGHQ -- he's agreed to meet you at the municipal airport and actually take you home; Taylor will fly you up there...you can be home within the next hour."

Eric blinked again. "Why?"

Peterson smiled faintly. "Because I figure I've wrecked enough of your Christmases without wrecking Alice and Kim's too."

* * *

_TO BE CONCLUDED..._


	9. Epilogue

Disclaimer: See part 1 -- nothing's changed!

With grateful thanks to Gamine for patiently picking out the nits, Cmar for making my formatting easier (!!) and to Kahva just because.

Many apologies over the length of time you've been hanging; a mini case of writer's block struck roughly fifteen paragraphs from the end.

Please offer feedback, it tells me how I've done

~*~

Kimberly sighed. Though the day had been relaxing, it had also been fairly long and the last thing she felt inclined to cope with was Alice in whine-mode. Naturally, that was exactly how Alice was reacting. "It's bed time," she stated firmly. "And bed is where you are going."

"But what if dad comes home?" Alice pouted.

"Alice," said Kimberly patiently. "It's nearly nine o'clock in the evening. The chances are..."

But Kimberly never got to finish her sentence. She'd been vaguely aware of the sounds of something pulling up and stopping outside the house as she'd been having the argument with Alice and she hadn't paid it any mind -- but now, as the 'something' drove away, there came a knock on the front door, and suddenly Kimberly wondered.

Could it be?

Holding her breath, Kimberly went to the door and peered through the spy hole.

It was.

It was!

Opening the door, Kimberly wrapped her arms around Eric in a tight embrace. "You're really home."

"I really am," Eric agreed.

"Yay! Dad!" Alice bounded up to join in the hug. "You're not going to go away again?"

Eric chuckled. "Nope. I promise. I'm home for good."

~*~

Later, once Alice had been persuaded to go to bed, Eric and Kimberly talked. He told her some of what he'd been up to -- only the barest detail, edited not just because of the covert nature of the mission but also because there were some parts he couldn't bring himself to tell Kimberly. She knew the harsh realities of life were out there -- he didn't need to share the gory details.

As he finished, she asked quietly, "Weren't you tempted?"

"Tempted?"

Kimberly smiled a little. "Working with a gorgeous female spy, going in under cover...aren't you tempted to stay with that life?"

"Nope."

"No?"

"Not even for a second. To do that stuff -- to be in that world -- I had to be someone I don't much like." Eric thought about the calculating way he took down the two thugs. "I would much sooner stay here -- be here with you, and with Alice...work for the SGs -- and be someone I can be proud of." He leaned over and gently kissed her. "You make me a better person, Kim."

Kimberly smiled. "Good answer."

"Only answer," Eric responded, smiling back. "So how've things been here?"

"Been too quiet," she answered. "We've all missed you."

The spaces in Kimberly's words told Eric the full story. "Well, I'm home now -- and not going anywhere. Not for a long time."

* * *

_~ENDS~_


End file.
